JCA         LlDKi:^ 


CHABLE5--i 
MAKMERV 
MARS! 


GIFT  OF 

Charles   A.    Marsh 
to  Hu  Larr^bda 


Digitized  by  tlie  Internet  Arcliive 

in  2008  witli  funding  from 

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http://www.arcliive.org/details/extemporespeecliliOOpitt 


EXTEMPORE  SPEECH 


ACQUIRE  AND  PRACTICE  IT. 


WILLIAM    PITTENGER 

AUTHOR    OP 

"  Toasts,"  "  The  Debater's  Treasury,"  etc. 


Philadelphia 

The  Penn  Publishing  Company 

1899 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1.SS3,  by  the 

National  School,  of  tiLOCUTiox  and  Oratory, 

in  tlie  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Wasliington. 


e 


-  PREFACE. 


-_^  The  following  pages  are  the  result  of  coiisiderablo 
ubscrvation  and  experience.  Fifteen  years  ago  the 
writer  published  a  small  volume  entitled    "  Oratory  ; 

"C  Sacred  and  Secular,"  in  which  the  same  general  views 
C  were  set  forth,  though  more  slightly  and   crudely  ex- 

"^  pressed.  In  this  work  the  recognized  defects  of  that 
earlier  effort  are  su})plied  ;   and   it  is  believed  that  all 

^  persons  who  have;  natural  ada[)tation  to  public  speech 
will  here  find  all  necessary  directions  to  guide  them  by 

-t-  the  shortest  and  surest  road  to  success. 

J.  It  is  not  necessary  or  even  exjiedient  that  a  book 
^  which  teaches  the  mode  of  eloquence  should  itself  be 

^  eloquent.  We  may  watch,  admire,  and  describe  the 
flio;ht  of  an  eaii^le   whih^  standinw;  on  the  firm  ground 

^         o  o  o  o 

<<  quite  as  well  as  if  flying  in  the  air  beside,  him.  Xo 
^  effort,  therefore,  has  been  made  to  imitate  those  g-rand 
~^  bursts  of  feeling  or  lofty  flights  of  imagination  in 
_i  which  the  popular  orator  may  indulge ;  but  we  have 
sought  to  give  such  directions  about  practical  details 
u.  as  mav  be  useful  to  the  highest  genius,  while  the 
1—  broad  path  toward  that  kind  of  excellence  most  in 
c5  iii 


IV  PREFACE. 

harmony  with  the  speaker's  own  faculties  is  clearly 
marked  out. 

The  writer  is  firmly  convinced  that  more  than  ninc- 
tenths  of  those  who  have  anv  fair  degree  of  abilitv  to 
speak  in  public  Avill  succeed  best  in  the  mode  laid  down 
in  the  following  pages;  tliat  is,  b}'  thorough  preparation 
and  arrangement  of  thought,  combined  with  spontaneous 
selection  of  words  in  the  moment  of  discourse. 

Reasons  will  be  given  for  considering  this  the  most 
natural,  logical,  impassioned,  and  effective  mode  of  dis- 
course;  indeed,  the  sujK'rior  excellence  of  extempore 
speech  is  noAV  generally  conceded  and  Avill  require 
little  argument;  but  it  is  more  im})()rtant  to  encourage 
the  beginner  by  sli()\viug  liim  just  how  to  acquire  and 
practice  fluent,  acciu-atc,  and  inq»ressive  olf-hand  speech 
in  pul>lic,  with  as  little  embarrassment  or  fear  as  if 
every  word  were  written  out  and  in  plain  sight.  This 
is  the  especial  object  of  the  following  pages. 


Table  of  Contents. 


PART  I. 

Preliminary  Considerations  : 

PAGE 

Chapter  I.  Can  P^loquence  he  Taught?  ....  9 
"        II.     The   Four   Methods   of  Public   Speech— Tlieir 

Advantages  and  Disadvantages          .         .  15 

"  III.  Lessonsfrora  the  Experience  of  Eminent  Orators  31 
«'      IV.     An  Embryo  Speecli,  witli  Models  of  very  Simple 

Plans 44 

"        V.     Initial   Fear,  and  How  to  Overcome  it        .         .  00 

"      VI.     Utilitv  of  Debating  Societies       ....  05 


PART  II. 

Preparation  of  the  Speaker  : 

Chapter  I.  Unfortunates  who  never  can  Extemporize  .     73 

"  II.  Thought  and  Emotion 

"  III.  Language 

•     "  IV.  Imagination 

"  V.  Voice  and  Gesture 

"  VI.  Confidence   . 

"  VII.  Peculiarities  belonging  to  the  Various  Fields  of 


101 
109 
114 
125 


Oratorv 135 

V 


VI 


Chapter  I. 

» 

II. 

11 

III. 

<( 

IV. 

11 

Y. 

(( 

VI. 

(( 

YII. 

" 

VIII. 

11 

IX. 

TABLE   OF   COXTEVTS. 

PART  III. 

Plan  and  Delivery  of  the  Speech  : 

The  Pen  and  the  Tongue    . 
Subject  and  Object 
Tliought-gathering 
Constructing  a  Phm     . 
How  Shall  the  Written  Plan  be 
The  First  Moment  of  Speecli 
The  Introduction 
Progress  of  the  Speech 
Three  Plans  of  Great  Addresses 
X.     Illustrations,  Pathos,  Humor 
XI.     Tlie  Orator's  Logic 
XII.     After  the  Speech 


I'sed 


PAGE 
.  145 

.  148 
.  159 
.  166 
.  177 
.  187 
.  196 
.  207 
.  217 
,  243 
.  248 
.  262 


PART   I. 


Preliminary  Considerations. 


CHAPTER  I. 
Can  Eloquence  be  Taught? 

There  is  a  widespread  opinion  that  all  study  of  the 
mode  of  oi'atory  is  unmanly,  and  leads  to  the  substitu- 
tion of  artifice  and  adornment  for  .simplieity  and  power. 
"  Let  a  man  have  .^^omethino-  important  to  say,"  it  is 
arguetl,  "  and  he  need  not  waste  his  time  in  trying  to 
find  how  to  say  it."  So  general  is  this  sentiment,  that  a 
ministerial  aecpiaintance  of  the  writer's  was  recently  very 
careful  to  conceal  from  his  congregation  the  foct  that  ho 
was  taking  a  series  of  lessons  in  elocution,  lest  his  in- 
fluence should  be  diminished. 

We  may  admit  that  the  popular  prejudice  against  the 
study  of  eloquence  is  not  without  a  mixture  of  reason. 
It  is  possible  to  foster  a  spurious  kind  of  oratory,  which 
shall  be  far  inferior  to  the  rudest  genuine  speech.  But 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  safe  to  maintain  that  every 
rational  power  man  possesses  can  be  strengthened  by 
judicious  cultivation,  without  in  the  least  impairing  its 
(piality.  There  is  no  trick  in  true  oratory — no  secret 
magic  by  which  a  weak-minded  man  can  become  the 
leader  of  others  stronger  and  wiser  than  himself.  The 
great  prizes  of  eloquence  cannot  be  placed  in  the  hands 
of  the  ignorant  or  slothful.     But  so  surely  as  a  raw  ap- 

9 


10  EXTEMPORE  SPEECH. 

prentice  can  be  transformed  into  a  slvillful  workman,  any 
person  possessed  of  ordinary  faculties,  who  will  pay  the 
price  in  labor,  can  be  made  master  of  the  art  of  ready 
and  forcible  public  utterance. 

The  methods  of  oratorical  cultivation  presented  in  this 
volume  are  not  based  upon  mere  theory.  They  have 
been  tested  in  hundreds  of  instances,  and  their  results  are 
bevond  question.  A  carpenter  will  assert  with  perfect 
assurance,  "  I  guarantee  to  take  an  ordinary  young  man, 
who  will  place  himself  in  my  hands  for  a  reasonable 
time,  and  turn  him  out  a  thorough  mechanic,  master  of 
every  part  of  his  trade."  The  effects  of  training  are  as 
marvelous  and  as  certain  in  the  fields  of  eloquence. 

]>ut  this  training  must  necessarily  combine  practice 
with  theory.  To  study  about  great  orators  and  observe 
their  works  is  not  sufficient.  Here  again,  we  may  take 
a  lesson  from  the  mode  in  which  an  apprentice  is  trained. 
Tlic  master  architect  does  not  take  his  young  men  to 
iiaze  u])<)n  finished  buildings,  and  exjject  them,  from 
lucre  a<lmiration  and  architectural  fervor,  to  construct 
similar  works.  He  would  soon  find  that  not  one  in  a 
hnndred  liad  the  "  mechanical  genius  "  for  such  an  easy 
triumph.  l>nt  he  takes  them  into  the  sho|),  where  work 
is  in  jM'ogress,  places  bcfitre  them  some  simple  task,  and 
I'rom  that  leads  them  on,  stej)  by  step,  to  more  difficult 
achievements.  They  learn  how  to  make  the  separate 
parts  of  a  house,  and  afterward  how  to  fit  those  parts 


CAN  EI.OQT^EXOE  BE   TAUGHT?  11 

into  a  (oinpU'te  work.  Under  this  rational  mode  of  in- 
struction the  great  majority  master  the  wliole  business 
pkieed  before  them,  and  the  faihires  are  rare  exceptions. 
If  similar  success  does  not  attend  oratorical  students,  the 
explanation  must  be  sought,  not  in  the  nature  of  oratory, 
but  in  wrong  methods  of  training.  Merely  reading 
C 'icero  and  Demosthenes,  even  in  their  original  tongues, 
declaiming  choice  selections,  or  listening  to  great  orators, 
will  not  make  any  one  eloquent,  unless  indeed  he  pos- 
sesses that  rare  natural  genius  which  rises  above  all 
rules  and  sweeps  away  every  obstacle. 

But  it  must  be  remembered  that  there  are  many  de- 
grees of  eloquence.  The  popular  conception  is  somewhat 
unjust  in  refusing  recognition  to  those  who  possess  this 
p(>\\'er  in  only  a  fair  degree.  It  is  not  possible  by  any 
mode  of  training  to  produce  many  orators  of  the  very 
liighest  type.  Such  will  ever  be  rare  for  the  same  reason 
that  there  are  but  few  great  poets,  generals,  or  statesmen. 
But  proper  education  in  the  art  of  s])eech  sliould  enable 
a  man  to  give  full,  free,  and  adequate  expression  to  what- 
ever thoughts  and  feelings  he  may  possess.  It  may  go 
liirther,  and  make  him  more  fruitful  in  thought,  and 
more  intense  in  feeling,  than  he  could  have  l)een  in  tlu^ 
abs'enceof  such  education,  and  he  may  thus  become  fairly 
entitled  to  the  rewards  of  ekujuence  without,  however, 
reaching  the  level  of  the  few  great  world-orators.  The 
distinction  between  a  good  degree  of  practical,  working 


12  EXTEMPOEE   SPEECH. 

eloquence,  which  may  be  successfully  taught  to  the  mass 
of  students,  and  the  very  iiighest  development  of  the 
same  faculty,  should  always  be  kept  in  mind.  Even  the 
mightiest  genius  may  be  regulated,  strengthened,  and 
directed  by  culture ;  while  moderate  talents  may,  by 
similar  culture,  reach  a  very  serviceable  degree  of  effi- 
ciency and  power. 

>A']r.l'  these  considerations  appear  almost  self-evident, 
they  are  not  unnecessary.  On  listening  to  a  true  orator 
— one  who,  without  hesitation,  pours  forth  a  stream  of 
well-chosen  words,  and  develops  a  difficult  subject  in  a 
clear  and  masterly  manner — we  are  apt  to  receive  an 
impression  like  that  made  by  the  operation  of  a  law  of 
nature,  or  an  unerring  animal  instinct.  Does  the  orator 
acquire  eloquence  as  the  bee  learns  to  construct  honey- 
cells?  There  is,  no  doubt,  a  foundation  for  eloquence  in 
natural  ability,  but  the  analogy  is  far  more  close  with 
the  human  builder,  who  sees  mentally  tlie  image  of  the 
house  he  wishes  to  construct,  fits  the  various  timbers  and 
other  materials  into  their  places,  and  works  intelligently 
until  his  conception  is  realized.  To  Jack  Cade  and  his 
fellows  the  mysteries  of  reading  and  writing  "came  by 
nature;"  but  experience  has  shown  that  this  much  of 
nature  cnii  bcdcvcloijcd  in  the  great  majority  of  American 
cliildren.  In  the  moderate  and  reasonable  meaning  of 
the  term,  elofjuence  can  be  made  almost  as  general  as  the 
elements  of  a  conunon-school  education.     The  child  that 


CAN    ELOQUENXE    BE    TAUGHT?  13 

masters  the  art  of"  reading,  really  makes  a  greater  eon- 
quest  over  diffieulties,  than  the  average  well-educated 
youth*  needs  to  add  to  the  stores  he  already  possesses,  in 
order  to  attain  a  good  degree  of"  oratorical  power.  There 
are,  indeed,  a  few  indispensable  requisites  which  Avill  l)e 
enumerated  in  another  chapter;  hut  the  want  of  these 
debars  a  small  minority  only,  and  their  absence  is  easily 
i^3cognized.  For  all  others  the  path  of  success  lies  open. 
Patient  practice  in  the  use  of  the  pen  as  a  servant  but 
not  as  a  master,  the  study  of  good  models,  and  the 
laborious  mastery  in  detail  of  the  separate  elements  of 
oratory,  Avill  not  fail  of  abundant  fruit. 

There  are  two  classes  of  works  with  which  this  treatise 
should  not  be  confounded.  It  aims  to  occupy  an  almost 
vacant  place  between  manuals  of  elocution  on  the  one 
hand,  and  works  of  tcciiiiical  instruction  in  the  various 
oratorical  professions,  ( >n  the  other.  Both  of  these  cla.sses 
of  books  arc  v(M'v  useful,  and  teach  indirectly  many  of 
the  elements  of  true  eioijueuee.  Elocution  deals  with 
voice  and  gesture,  w  hich  are  prime  elements  in  oratory  ; 
and  although  it  is  ])opuiai-ly  suj)p()sed  to  be  applicable 
only  to  reading  and  recitation,  it  is  e(jually  serviceable  in 
off-hand  speech.  A\'orks  of  the  swond  class  give  rules 
for  preaching,  debating,  pleading  at  the  bar,  teaching, 
and  all  other  professions  which  involve  public  speech. 
They  show  how  various  kinds  of  discourses  may  be  con- 
structed,  but   have   few   practical   directions   about   the 


14  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

mode  of  delivery,  or  that  grand  and  noble  work — the 
development  of  the  oratorical  power  itself. 

This  book  is  written  from  the  standpoint  of  the  stndent 
\vho  wishes  to  wield  the  golden  s('e])tre  of  eloqnencc  and 
is  willing  to  pnt  forth  all  rcasonalile  efforts  to  that  end. 
It  will  aim  to  gnide  him  into  the  right  path  ;  show  him 
what  helps  are  available,  and  what  discipline  is  necessary ; 
enconrage  him  in  overcoming  difficnlties,  and  stimulate 
him  to  seek  the  very  highest  excellence  within  the  com- 
pass of  his  faculties. 


CHAPTER  TT. 

The  Four  Methods  of   Pitbi.k;  Speech — Their 
Advantages   and   Disadvantages. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  exclaims  the  yoiiii*:'  studcnl  who 
expects  soon  to  face  public  audieiiccs.  "  Shall  1  write 
out  what  I  have  to  say,  polish  it  as  highly  as  possible, 
and  then  utter  this  finished  product  ?  Or  must  I  take 
the  risk  of  being  able  to  say  nothing  at  all,  in  liope  of 
gaining  the  ease  and  naturalness  of  spontaneous  spcecii?" 

It  must  be  admitted  that  the  first  course  indicated 
above  has  many  advantages,  and  seems  in  harmony  with 
tlie  marked  tendency  of  civilization  toward  division  of 
labor.  It  is  hard  to  perform  several  different  operations 
at  the  same  moment.  Look  liow  heavily  the  extempore 
speaker  is  burdened.  He  must  think  of  his  subje<'t ; 
arrange  his  ideas,  sentences,  and  words ;  remember  quo- 
tations ;  originate  proper  tones  and  gestures ;  and  keep 
his  attention  closely  fixed  upon  his  audience.  All  this 
he  must  do  with  the  utmost  promptness  and  regularity, 
or  incur  a  fearful  penalty — that  of  embarrassment  and 
failure.  Few  men  have  the  courage  to  stand  long  before 
an  audience,  waiting  for  a  missing  word  or  idea.  To 
avoid  this  danger  the  mind  oi'  an  extempore  speaker 
must  be  accustomed  to  work  w  ith  the  rapidity  and   pre- 

"  15 


16  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

cision  of  a  priiiting-pres;; ;  uthcrwi.-^e,  the  appalling 
danger  of  failure  and  ridicule  will  con.stantly  stare  him 
in  the  face.  It  is  not  wonderful  that  such  perils  have 
made  many  speakers  perpetual  slaves  of  the  pen. 

But  it  may  be  noted  that  the  public  reader  has  an 
equal  number  of  things  to  do  at  the  same  moment.  He 
must  look  on  the  manuscript  and  recognize  the  words — a 
complicated  process,  which  practice  has  made  easy,  but 
-which  does  greatly  distract  attention.  The  whole  dis- 
course must  be  brought  into  mind  as  really  as  if  extem- 
porized with  the  difference  that  now,  instead  of  arising 
from  within,  it  is  brought  back  from  \\ithout — a  much 
more  difficult  achievement.  Tones  and  gestures  are  also 
increasingly  difficult.  The  reader  will  usually  wish  to  give 
some  attention  to  the  audience,  which,  M'ith  manuscript 
before  him,  will  Ik-  far  from  easy.  After  he  has  done 
his  best  his  hearers  w  ill  think,  "  This  man  is  reading, 
not  speaking — giving  us  what  he  thought  yesterday  or 
last  week,  not  what  he  is  thinking  now."  Possibly 
this  will  not  diminish  their  pleasure,  but  the  sentiment 
needs  to  be  recognized. 

The  resource  nf  nicnioi'izing  the  discourse  after  it  has 
been  ])repan'd  iclicves  the  eye  and  lessens  the  physical 
distraction,  but  it  throws  an  additional  and  very  heavy 
burden  n|)i»n  the  mind,  and  introduces  new  embarrass- 
ments ])rcnliar  tn  itself. 

Tile  advice  enfiu'ccd  in  llicse  pages  will  be:  "  P"xtem- 


FOUR    METHODS    OF    SPEECH.  17 

porize;  take  the  risk ;  fail,  if  necessary  "  though  precau- 
tions will  be  given  making  failure  well  nigh  impossible ; 
''  but  in  all  cases  when  you  speak  to  the  people  Avith  the 
object  of  convincing  or  persuading,  let  it  be  seen  that 
you  speak  directly  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of  that 
very  moment." 

The  two  extremes  of  verbal  communication  between 
men  are  letters,  books,  or  essays,  on  the  one  side, "and 
desultory  talk  on  the  other.  In  the  one,  the  pen  is 
everythmg;  in  the  other,  it  is  not  employed  at  all. 
Neither  mode  of  address  constitutes  oratory,  but  the 
whole  field  of  this  art  lies  between  them. 

There  are  four  principal  methods  of  discourse  dis- 
tinguished in  reference  to  the  motle  of  delivery,  which 
Ave  may  name  as  fblloA\s  : 

1.  Reading. 

2.  Recitation. 

3.  Extemporizing. 

4.  The  composite  method. 

Of  these,  the  first  two  have  the  great  advantage  of 
allowing  the  speaker  as  much  time  as  may  be  necessary 
for  the  arrangement  of  the  speech  down  to  the  minutest 
detail.  Words  may  l)e  selected  with  the  nicest  care,  and 
if  the  first  effort  is  not  satisfactory  the  speech  may  be 
written  again  and  again,  until  the  writer's  full  power  has 
been  utilized.  After  delivery,  the  manuscript  is  at  once 
available   for   publication    or   preservation.      The   first 


18  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

method  gives  the  orator  something  to  lean  upon.  Should 
he  become  embarrassed,  he  can  fix  his  attention  closely 
upon  his  writing  until  he  recovers.  Should  his  attention 
be  distracted,  and  the  thread  of  discourse  be  broken,  it 
can  be  taken  up  again  at  any  point. 

In  recitation  more  declamatory  fervor  is  possible  than 
in  reading.  Gesticulation  is  less  restrained.  The  speaker 
need  not  be  confined  within  the  narrow  limits  of  a  circle, 
the  centre  of  which  is  his  manuscript,  and  the  radius  the 
distance  at  which  he  can  read  it. 

As  an  offset,  there  is  the  effort,  in  some  cases  very  con- 
siderable, of  memorizing ;  the  variable  power  of  memory 
in  different  states  of  health  ;  and  the  possibility  of  alto- 
gether forgetting  the  prepared  words.  It  must  also  be 
admitted  that  few  men  can  declaim  Avell.  Some  have 
mastered  the  difficult  art,  and  have  Avon  laurels  in  this 
way ;  but  their  number,  especially  in  the  modern  world, 
is  comparatively  small. 

Extemporizing  does  not  exclude  the  most  exhaustive 
study  of  a  subject.  It  is  easier,  indeed,  to  write  upon  a 
subject  only  ])artially  understood,  than  to  address  an 
audience  directly  upon  the  same  topic.  Neither  does 
this  method  exclude  the  most  careful  pre-arrangement  of 
the  thoughts  enunciatal.  The  trained  speaker  Avill  find 
it  comparatively  easy  to  make  a  plan  at  a  moment's 
notice  Avliicli  will  serve  as  a  basis  for  discourse;  but  he 
Avill  usually  l)e  provided   with  a  plan  long   before  he 


FOUR    METHODS    OF    SPEECH.  19 

begins  to  speak.  He  will  aim  to  understand  his  subject, 
make  the  best  arrangement  of  it  in  his  power,  select  what 
is  most  fitting  for  his  purpose,  and  then,  face  to  face 
with  his  audience,  will  give  them,  in  a  manly  way,  the 
outflowing  of  his  mind  and  heart.  It  is  in  this  sense 
alone  that  the  word  "extempore"  will  be  used  in  this 
volume.  We  maintain  that,  so  far  from  being  the  refuge 
of  ignorance  and  sloth,  extempore  speech  is  often  the 
vehicle  of  the  witlest  culture  and  the  most  extensive 
knowledge. 

The  increased  attention  paid  to  extempore  speech 
Avithin  a  few  years  indicates  a  hopeful  improvement  of 
taste  among  professional  men.  The  majority  of  the 
people  have  always  preferred  it.  They  do  not  greatly 
desire  of  pulpit,  platform,  or  bar,  the  verbal  elaboration 
favored  bv  written  speech ;  but  fervent  manner,  earnest 
conviction,  and  directness  are  highly  prized.  Readers 
and  reciters  imitate,  as  far  as  they  can,  the  manner  of 
spontaneous  speech.  It  is  well  to  remember  that  this 
tribute  of  imitation  is  never  paid  by  the  superior  to  the 
inferior. 

One  argument  in  favor  of  extempore  delivery  has 
never  received  due  consideration  :  it  is  far  more  healthful 
than  other  forms  of  address.  In  the  case  of  men  who 
speak  only  at  long  intervals,  this  consideration  may  not 
be  weighty ;  but  to  others,  it  involves  years  of  added 
usefulness,  or  even  life  itself. 


20  EXTE^rPORE    SPEECH. 

This  superior  healthful nesL  has  often  been  observed, 
but  Avhat  Is  its  source  ?  The  answer  will  go  far  to  show 
why  true  extempore  speech  is  more  persuasi^•e  and  emo- 
tional than  any  other  variety.  In  chemistry,  a  h\v 
of  affinity  has  long  been  recognized,  according  to  wliicii 
substances  just  set  free  from  combination  have  greater 
energy,  and  are  more  ready  to  form  new  coml)inations, 
than  ever  afterward.  In  the  same  way,  voice  and  gesture 
readily  respond  to  nascent  emotion  ;  that  is,  to  emotion 
aroused  for  the  first  time.  Every  speaker  who  utters 
the  thought  of  the  moment,  if  not  fettered  by  bad  habits, 
or  paralyzed  by  fear,  will  exhibit  a  perpetual  chauge  of 
position,  a  variety  of  muscular  movement,  and  a  play  of 
expression  which  he  can  never  afterward  reproduce. 
The  pitch,  rate,  and  force  of  the  voice  are  controlled  in 
the  same  effective  and  almost  automatic  manner.  An 
ordinary  extemporizer,  when  thoroughly  aroused,  Avill 
employ  as  great  a  variety  of  tones  and  g(>stures  as  a 
highly  trained  elocutionist  in  his  most  elaborate  recita- 
tions. Nothing  is  asserted  as  to  the  skill  of  the  combi- 
nations, the  melody  of  the  voice,  or  the  grace  of  the  action ; 
though  even  in  these  the  advantage  is  not  always  on  the, 
side  of  the  elocutionist.  But  in  distributing  the  effort 
among  all  the  organs,  and  in  giving  that  alternate  rest 
and  a<'tion  upon  Avhich  health  and  strength  depend,  the 
elocutionist  may  strive  in  vain  to  equal  the  model  set  Liui 
by  a  good  extempore  speech.     In  AVesteni  and  seaside 


FOVTt    METHODS    OF    SPEECH.  21 

ramp-meetings,  speakers  who  have  never  spent  an  hour 
in  voeal  drill  will  often  address  thousands  of  people  in  the 
open  air  with  an  energy  of  voice  and  manner  that  would, 
if  employed  over  a  manuscript  by  any  other  than  the  most 
accomplished  elocutionist,  speedily  bring  all  efforts  and 
the  speaker  himself  to  an  end.  But  he  easily  endures 
the  strain  because  there  is  that  continual  change  Avhich 
is  the  equivalent  of  rest.  Notice  some  thoroughly  ex- 
cited speaker,  trained  only  in  the  school  of  experience — 
possil)ly  a  mere  demagogue  or  popidar  agitator — at  his 
work.  A  word  shot  forth  almost  as  piercing  as  a  steam 
Avhistle  is  followed  by  a  sentence  far  down  the  scale,  and 
when  emotion  demands  the  same  high  key  again,  the 
organs  in  that  position  are  fresh  for  a  new  ear-piercing 
effort.  There  is  c^jual  variation  in  the  rate  of  speech. 
The  whole  body  joins  in  the  expression  of  emotion,  with- 
out the  slightest  conscious  effort,  impelled  only  by  the 
aroused  nervous  energy  which  seeks  that  mode  of  dis- 
charge. When  the  eifort  ends,  the  man  is  weary,  indeed  ; 
but  with  a  Aveariness  distributed  over  the  whole  body,  and 
Avithout  a  trace  of  that  exhaustion  of  brain,  throat,  or  the 
upper  part  of  the  lungs,  which  has  sent  many  mamiscript 
speakers — clergymen,  especially — to  untimely  graves. 

What  a  difference  there  is  between  the  preacher  who 
languidly  reads  his  manuscript  for  twenty-five  minutes 
to  a  hundred  people,  and  closes  the  mighty  eifort  with 
aching  head,  quivering  nerves,  and  exhausted  throat,  and 


22  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

the  tvi)ieal  (\a nip-meeting  f»rator !  The  latter  works  hartl, 
addressing  thousands  of  people  for  an  hour  and  a  half 
or  two  hours ;  but  as  the  stamping  foot,  the  tense  arm, 
the  nodding  head,  the  fully  expanded  lungs,  and  the 
swaying  body  have  all  taken  part,  the  blood  and  nervous 
energy  have  been  sent  in  due  proportion  to  every  organ, 
and  there  is  no  want  of  balanee.  The  man  can  repeat 
the  same  performances  the  next  day,  and  continue  it,  as 
many  itinerants  have  done,  for  months  together.  Similar 
examples  of  endurance  have  often  been  given  in  heated 
political  canvasses  by  orators  of  the  very  highest  emi- 
nence, as  well  as  by  others  unknow^n  to  fame.  Difference 
of  cultivation  or  of  earnestness  will  not  suffice  to  ex- 
plain the  contrast  between  the  two  classes  of  speakers. 

The  chemical  analogy  is  instructive,  and  goes'  far  to 
account  for  the  observed  differences.  When  thought 
passes  out  of  the  mist  and  shadow  of  general  concep- 
tions into  the  definite  form  of  words,  it  has  immeasurably 
greater  power  to  arouse  and  agitate  the  mind  in  which 
this  transformation  is  made,  than  it  can  have  when  the 
same  words  are  merely  recalled  in  memory  or  read  from 
a  sheet  of  pa})er.  When  the  whole  process  of  expression 
takes  place  at  once: — the  mental  glance  over  the  subject ; 
the  coinage  of  thoughts  into  words  and  sentences;  the 
utterance  of  the  words  as  they  rise  to  the  lips ;  the  selec- 
tion of  key,  inflection,  em])hasis,  gesture: — ^the  man  must 
have  a  very  cold  nature,  or  his  theme  be  very  dull,  if, 


FOUR    ISfETHODS    OF    SPEECH.  5^3 

with  a  .syinpathizinti'  audiciu'c  In-forc  liini,  the  tides  of 
emotion  do  not  begin  to  swell.  But  notice  how  other 
modes  of  delivery  squander  this  wealth  of  emotion.  The 
writer  carefully  elaborates  his  language.  He  is  perfectly 
calm,  or  if  there  is  any  excitement,  it  is  purely  intel- 
lectual, and  the  quickened  flow  of  blood  is  directed  only 
to  the  brain.  When  the  ardor  of  composition  subsides, 
and  he  reviews  his  pages,  the  fire  seems  to  have  died  out 
of  them.  While  memorizing,  or  making  himself  familiar 
enough  with  what  he  has  written  to  read  it  with  effect, 
he  may  recall  some  of  the  first  ardor,  but  only  to  have 
it  again  subside.  When  at  last  he  stands  up  to  speak, 
his  production  is  a  thrice-told  tale.  In  but  few  cases 
will  he  feel  the  full  inspiration  of  his  message.  If  he 
recites,  the  effort  of  memory  distracts  his  attention,  and 
he  is  probably  reading  from  a  page  of  manuscript  pre- 
sented by  his  mental  vision.  If  he  reads  directly,  he 
must  take  a  position  to  see  his  paper,  and  at  least  part  of 
the  time  keep  his  eye  fixed  upon  it.  The  address  is 
felt  to  come,  notwithstanding  all  the  artifice  he  can 
employ,  at  least  as  much  from  the  paper  as  from  the 
man.  The  most  profi)und  culture  in  reading  and  decla- 
mation only  suffices  to  bring  back  part  of  the  emotion 
with  which  the  genuine  extemporizcr  starts. 

As  bearing  ujwn  the  subject  of  the  healthfulness  of 
extempore  speech,  a  reference  to  the  writer's  own  ex- 
perience may  not  be  improper.     Severe  and  exceptional 


24  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

hardship  iii  the  civil  war  led  to  a  ((jinplete  break-down 
in  health.  The  hope  of  any  kind  of  active  work,  or 
even  of  many  months  of  life,  seemed  very  slight.  The 
question  was  not  so  much  how  to  speak  best,  as  ho^v  to 
speak  at  all.  Fortunately,  a  long-  series  of  daily  lectures, 
involving  no  great  intellectual  etibrt,  proved  that  mere 
talkino-  was  not  necessarilv  hurtful.  Some  elocutionary 
hints  at  the  rig-ht  time  were  also  of  great  value.  When 
the  pulpit  was  entered,  greater  difficulty  arose.  A  few 
trials  of  memorized  preaching  produced  alarming  nervous 
exhaustion.  Reading  was  equally  deleterious  to  throat 
and  voice.  One  path  alone  seemed  open ;  and  entering 
upon  that  with  confidence,  which  eighteen  years  of  ex- 
perience has  (July  deepened,  the  writer  found  that  ex- 
tempore speech  was,  for  him,  probably  the  most  healthful 
of  all  forms  of  exercise.  It  is  not  likely  that  one-third 
of  this  term  of  work  would  have  been  secured  by  any 
other  kind  of  address. 

Another  important  advantage  is  the  saving  of  time 
affi)rded  by  this  mode  of  speech.  The  hours  otherwise 
wasted  in  word-elaboration  may  be  more  usefully  em- 
ployed in  general  studies.  The  field  for  an  orator's  im- 
l)i-<)vement  is  boundless;  but  if  obliged  to  fully  write  a 
large  number  of  discourses,  he  must  either  work  very 
rapidly  or  very  perseveringly  to  enter  far  into  that  field. 
But  if  less  preparation  is  given  to  individual  speeches, 
more  time  will   be  available  for  the  improvement  of  the 


FOUR     METHODS    OF    SPEECH.  25 

.speaker.  (Jr  if  he  uses  the  same  leiii;tli  of  preparation 
f(jr  eaeli  diseoiirse  in  the  exteinpijre  mode,  he  can  eolleet 
and  classify  a  far  greater  amount  of  material,  and  the 
mental  element  will  thus  gain  far  more  than  the  merely 
verbal  loses. 

Only  the  fourth  or  eonn)osite  method  of  diseonrse 
remains  for  our  consideration.  \t  first  glance,  it  seems 
to  combine  the  advantages  of  all  other  methods,  and  for 
many  minds  it  possesses  great  attraction.  In  it  the  less 
impoi-tant  parts  of  the  speech  are  given  off-hand,  while 
passages  of  especial  brilliancy  or  po^ver  are  written  full}', 
and  either  read  or  recited.  Added  variety  may  be  given 
by  reading  some  of  these,  and  declaiming  others  from 
memory.  A  very  brilliant  and  showy  discourse  may 
thus  be  constructed.  But  the  difficulties  are  also  very 
great.  Full  success  requires  a  rare  combination  of  de- 
sirable qualities.  A  good  verbal  luemory,  the  power  of 
composing  effective  fragments,  and  of  declaiming  or 
reading  them  well,  are  not  often  joined  to  all  the  qualities 
that  make  a  ready  and  impressive  extemporizer.  For 
this  reason  it  usually  follows  that  in  composite  discourses 
one  of  the  elements  so  greatly  predominates  as  to  (hvarf 
the  others.  A  manuscript  discourse  in  which  an  extem- 
})ore  remark  or  two  is  interpolated  must  be  classed  ^ith 
written  discourses.  Neither  does  extemporizing  lose  its 
special  character,  though  some  scattered  quotations  be 
read  or  repeated  from  memory.     To  pick  up  a  book,  in 


26  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

the  midst  of  a  speech,  and  read  a  theme  or  argument,  or 
the  statement  of  another's  position,  does  not  make  the 
discourse  composite  in  character,  unless  such  reading  be 
the  principal  part  of  it.  An  eloquent  speaker  on  one 
occasion  occupied  more  than  half  his  time,  and  produced 
far  more  than  half  his  effect,  by  reciting  poems  of  the 
author  who  was  the  nominal  subject  of  his  lecture.  The 
performance  would  have  been  more  appropriately  styled, 

"  Recitations  from  the  poems  of ."      The  few 

running  comments  introduced  did  not  entitle  it  to  be 
classed  as  an  original  production,  because  they  ^\ere 
obviously  not  its  governing  motive. 

How  shall  the  advantages  of  extemporizing  be  secured, 
while  avoiding  its  dangers?  Xo  commendation  can  be 
given  to  those  who  simply  talk  to  an  audience,  giving 
forth  only  what  may  happen  to  be  in  mind  at  the  moment 
of  delivery.  The  most  pedantic  writing  and  lifeless 
reading  would,  as  a  habit,  be  preferable  to  such  reckless- 
ness. Unwritten  S])eech  does  not  preclude  the  fullest 
preparation.  The  plans  advocated  in  this  volume  will 
enaljle  a  sj^eaker  to  gather  materials  as  widely,  arrange 
them  as  systematically,  and  hold  them  as  firmly  in  hand, 
as  if  every  word  was  Avritten  ;  Avhile  at  the  same  time  he 
may  have  all  the  frecnlom  and  ])l:iv  of  thought,  the  rush 
of  passion,  and  the  energy  of  delivery  that  comes  in  the 
happiest  moment  of  outgushing  words.  But  those  who 
are  unwilling  to  labor  mnv  as  well   lav  down  the  liook. 


FOITR    METHODS    OF    SPEECH.  27 

We  do  not  profess  to  teach  a  process  of  labor-saving, 
thongh  much  kibor  ^^•ill  be  changed  from  mechanical  to 
intellectual,  and  after  long  experience  the  total  saving 
may  be  great.  But  in  the  first  stages  those  who  have 
been  accustomed  to  write  in  full  will  find  that  the 
change  involves  an  increase,  rather  than  a  diminution, 
of  work. 

On  all  ordinary  occasions  a  good  speech  must  result 
from  a  previous  ingathering  of  materials — the  formation 
of  a  mental  treasury  in  connection  with  a  special  subject. 
The  speaker  works  for  days  or  ^veeks  in  collecting  from 
all  sources  and  arranging  in  the  happiest  manner  that 
^\'hich  his  hearers  are  to  receive  in  an  hour  with  no 
other  labor  than  that  of  listening.  The  great  advantage 
of  writing  is  supposed  to  lie  in  this  preparation.  To-day 
an  orator  may  write  everything  he  knows  about  a  sub- 
ject; to-morrow,  by  means  of  reading,  conversation,  or 
further  thought,  he  may  have  more  ideas  to  record  ;  an.l 
he  may  thus  continue  to  widen  and  record  his  knowledge, 
until  his  time,  or  the  subject  itself,  is  exhausted.  Then 
he  may  revise,  select  what  is  most  appropriate,  refine  and 
polish  his  language,  and  finally  come  befi)re  an  audience 
confident  that  he  holds  in  his  liand  the  very  best  that  lu; 
can  give  them.  But,  alas  !  it  is  an  essay,  or  treatise, 
rather  than  a  speech  !  So  far  as  his  materials  are  suit- 
able for  a  speech,  they  can  be  gathered  and  used  as  readily 
in  an  extempore  discourse.     The  use  of  the  pen  as  an 


28  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

instrument  of  accnnnilation  and  iveonl  in  not  to  be 
(les})i.sed.  But  in  its  final  f(»rni,  not  a  line  of  the  most 
massive  and  eomplieated  speeeli  that  the  mind  of  man 
can  produce  need  be  written.  Enriched  bv  o-arnered 
thoughts — knowing  where  to  begin  and  where  to  close — 
seeing  a  clear  outline  of  the  whole  subject  in  mental 
vision — the  trained  speaker  may  possess  every  facidty, 
and  use  every  resource  of  speech^  in  as  serene  confidence 
as  if  every  word  was  fixed  in  memory  or  on  manuscript. 
Those  who  have  only  one  speech  to  deliver,  and  that 
for  show  rather  than  service,  Avill  hardly  credit  these 
assertions.  Graduating  orations  will  probably  ah\ays  be 
recited  from  memory.  In  such  cases  the  matter  is  of  lit- 
tle value,  while  the  form  is  everything.  So  well  is 
this  relation  of  fitness  understood,  that  in  serious  address 
it  is  a  severe  condemnation  to  say,  '^He  declaims  just 
like  a  school -boy,"  or  "  That  is  sophomoric."  The  line 
of  appropriateness  may  be  suggested  as  follows :  A\  hen 
the  sole  aim  is  to  inform  or  please,  or  when  an  address 
is  submitted  for  criticism,  those  who  have  the  needed 
ability  may  very  well  read  or  recite.  But  when  convic- 
tion or  persuasion  is  sought,  when  public  opinion  or  con- 
duct is  to  be  influenced,  the  indescribal)le  but  most 
})otent  charm  of  sincere,  earnest,  spontaneous  words  \\  ill 
ever  pi'ove  most  effective.  Xo  leader  of  a  great,  ])opu- 
lar  movement  ever  trusted  to  manuscript  appeals,  and 
but  t^^•o  or  three  of  such  leaders  memorized  their  ora- 


FOT^K     -AIETHDDS     OF     SPEECH.  29 

tions.  These  niotliocls  may  \vell  be  reserved  £ov  the 
oratory  of  ornament  and  sho^\'. 

May  a  Avord  of  advice  l)e  liazardcd  to  those  \\']io, 
iu  spite  of  all  these  considerations,  prefer  to  rely  upon 
manuscript  or  memory?  Bt;  honest  ahoiit  it  I  Those 
modes  of  delivery  have  advantages  when  their  resources 
are  fully  mastered.  Do  not  seek  credit  for  what  you  do 
not  possess,  but  stand  firmly  on  your  o^vn  ground  and 
make  the  most  of  it.  If  you  recite,  mem()rl;:e  perfectlv 
and  employ  the  most  effective  clocutionarv  devices.  Do 
not  hesitate  to  study  the  maimer  of  good  actors,  for 
your  recitations  and  theirs  must  have  much  in  common. 
If  you  read,  put  the  paper,  not  Avhere  it  will  be  best 
hidden,  but  where  it  will  do  you  the  most  good,  and  read 
as  well  as  you  can.  Thoronghl}-  good  reading  is  far 
more  interesting  and  attractive  than  reading  Avhich  is  a 
bad  imitation — there  are  no  good  imitations — of  spon- 
taneous speech.  Do  not  mark  in  your  manuscript 
"Here  become  pathetic;'^  or  at  an(»tlier  place,  "Here 
show  surprise  and  indignation."  Reading  is  essentiallv 
quiet  in  its  character,  appealing  to  intellect  and  gentle 
feeling  rather  than  stormy  passion.  You  will  thus 
realize  all  the  success  that  is  possible  for  you  in  the 
metnod  you  have  chosen,  and  escape  such  well-grounded 
sarcasm  as  that  of  Sydney  Smith,  who  thus  describes  a 
style  of  preaching  conunon  in  his  day  : 

"  Discourses  have  insensibly  dNnndled  from  speaking 


30  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

to  reading,  a  practice  which  is  of  itself  sufficient  to 
ytifle  every  germ  of  eloquence.  It  is  only  by  the  fresli 
feelings  of  the  heart  that  mankind  can  be  very  power- 
fully affected.  What  can  l)e  more  ludicrous  than  an 
orator  delivering  stale  mdignation,  and  fervor  a  week 
old ;  turning  over  whole  pages  of  violent  passions,  Avrit- 
ten  out  in  goodly  text ;  reading  the  tropes  and  apostro- 
2)hes  into  which  he  is  hurried  by  the  ardor  of  his  mind; 
and  so  affected  at  a  preconcerted  line  and  page  that  he  is 
unable  to  proceed  any  further  ?" 


CHAPTER  III. 

Lessons    from    the    Experience    of    E^iinent 
Orators. 

Although  unwritten  speech  is  popuhir  and  has  innu- 
merable arguments  in  its  favor,  many  persons  yet  maintain 
that  eloquence  of  the  highest  character  cannot  be  reached 
Avithout  trusting  to  the  memory  and  the  pen.  In  vain 
we  urge  that  it  is  more  natural  to  find  words  at  the 
moment  of  utterance ;  that  a  better  framework  may  be 
constructed  by  confining  preparation  to  it  alone ;  that 
the  hearer  and  speaker  may  thus  be  brought  into  more 
perfect  accord ;  that  this,  in  short,  Ls  the  method  of 
nature,  Avhich  permits  the  solid  part  of  the  tree  to  stand 
through  many  winters,  while  its  graceful  robe  of  foliage 
is  freshly  bestowed  every  spring.  With  the  emphasis 
of  an  axiom,  opponents  declare  that  the  words  of  a  great 
orator  must  be  previously  chosen,  fitted,  and  polished. 

A  speech-writer  is  apt  to  have  one  argument  drawn 
from  his  own  experience  which  outweighs  all  argument. 
His  own  most  satisfactory  efforts  are  those  in  which 
nothing  is  left  to  the  chance  of  the  moment.  But  even 
experience  sometimes  misleads.  We  may  be  bad  judges 
of  our  own  performances.  When  extemporizing,  the 
])est  utterances  are  often  immediately  forgotten  by  the 

31 


32  EXTEMPOEE     SPEECH. 

speaker,  Avliose  mind  is  crowded  with  other  *'  thick- 
coming  fancies."  But  in  writing  we  may  linger  lovingly 
over  each  sentence,  and  return  to  enjoy  it  as  often  as  we 
wish.  If  anything  is  imperfect,  we  can  correct  and 
improve  down  to  the  moment  of  sjDeech.  And  while  in 
the  act  of  reading  or  reciting  we  are  in  a  much  better 
position  to  admire  our  own  Avork,  than  when  carrial  away 
by  such  an  imj^assioned  torrent  as  to  scarcely  know 
whether  we  have  been  using  words  at  all.  If  our  auditors 
declare  their  preference  for  the  latter,  we  can  find  a  ready 
explanation  in  their  want  of  taste  and  culture. 

It  is  not  denied  that  great  effects  may  be  produced 
by  memorized  words.  The  popularity  of  the  stage  is 
sufficient  proof  of  their  power.  Actors  often  cause 
uncontrollable  tears  to  flow.  If  a  man  can  write  power- 
fully, and  then  recite  well,  he  may  greatly  move  an 
audience.  Massillon,  Bossuet,  and  our  own  John  B. 
Gough,  have  each  achieved  great  popular  success  in  that 
manner.  But  while  such  men  will  be  listened  to  with 
eagerness  and  pleasure,  they  will  be  regarded  as  great 
performers  rather  than  as  authorities  and  guides.  They 
have  placed  themselves  on  a  level  Avith  those  who  deal 
in  imreal  things,  and  must  be  contented  to  remain 
there.  Doubtless,  it  is  more  noble  to  speak  in  the  words 
that  were  once  appropriate  to  our  feelings  and  sentiments, 
than  to  deal  only  in  the  words  of  others ;  but  the  re- 
semblance between  quoting  our  own  previously  prepared 


EXPERIENCE  OF  EMINENT  OKATORS.      33 

language  and  the  language  of  other  persons  is  felt  more 
keenly  by  the  people  than  the  difference  between  the  two 
processes. 

But  even  in  momentary  eifect,  declaimers  of  memorizal 
words  have  been  surpassed  by  extemporizers,  as  numerous 
examples  demonstrate ;  while  in  power  of  thouglit  and 
lasting  influence  the  superiority  of  the  latter  is  so  great 
as  to  make  comparison  almost  impossible. 

The  great  examples  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  are 
often  quoted  to  prove  that  eloquence  of  the  highest  type 
must  be  written.  Of  these  men  it  may  be  said  that 
Demosthenes  had  an  assemblage  of  great  (pialities  that, 
backed  by  his  tireless  industry,  woukl  have  made  any 
method  the  road  to  brilliant  success.  But  he  did  not 
always  recite,  and  he  would  not  have  (IrcMincd  of  using 
manuscript.  Cicero  was  at  least  as  great  in  literature  as 
in  oratory,  and  his  speeches  are  now  read  as  literary 
models.  Some  of  them  Avere  never  spoken  at  all.  It 
may  be  allowed  that  he  ordinarily  recited  previous  pre- 
parations, but  some  of  his  most  brilliant  ]>assages  were 
purely  extemporaneous.  Theoutl)nist  that  overwhelmed 
Catiline  upon  the  unexpected  appciirime;'  of  the  latter  in 
the  Roman  Senate  was  coined  at  wiiite  heat  from  the 
passion  of  the  moment.  Horteiisius,  the  great  rival  of 
Cicero — perhaps  his  superior  as  an  advocate — spoke  in 
spontaneous  words,  as  did  many  <»f  the  most  eminent  of 
the  Roman  orators,  whose  lame  now  is  less  brilliant  than 


34  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

Cicero's,  mainly  because  no  eiFective  means  then  existed 
of  preserving  extempore  speech.  As  an  offset  to  the 
example  of  Demosthenes,  the  great  name  of  Pericles  may 
be  fairly  adduced.  He  did  not  write  his  addresses,  and 
direct  comparison  is  therefore  impossible;  but  his 
speech  established  a  sway  over  the  cultivated  democracy 
of  Athens  in  the  day  of  their  highest  glory  more  indis- 
putable than  Demosthenes  ever  attained. 

The  case  in  resrard  to  the  ancient  world  mav  be  thus 
summed  up :  Manuscript  reading  was  not  considered 
oratory  at  all ;  all  speeches  were  either  recited  or  extem- 
porized ;  the  latter  have  inevitably  perished,  while  some 
of  the  former  have  survived,  and,  becoming  a  part  of 
school-book  literature,  liave  conferred  a  disproportionate 
fame  upon  their  authors.  An  orator  who  was  compelled 
to  write  his  speech  in  order  to  preserve  it  had  a  much 
greater  inducement  to  Avrite  than  exists  since  the  inven- 
tion of  shorthand  reporting.  Yet  some  speakers  of  the 
highest  eminence  did  not  adopt  that  mode,  and  others 
did  not  confine  themselves  to  it. 

In  the  modern  world  the  weight  of  example  is  decis- 
ively on  the  side  of  unwritten  speech.  A  few  instances 
are  all  that  our  space  will  allow  us  to  adduce. 

Augustine,  the  great  Christian  writer  and  preacher, 
has  not  left  us  in  ignorance  as  to  which  mode  of  address 
he  preferred.  He  enjoins  the  "  Christian  Teacher  "  to 
make  liis  hearers  comprehend  what  he  says — "  to  read 


EXPEEIE^X•E    OF    EMINENT    ORATORS.  35 

in  the  eyes  and  countenances  of  his  auditors  whether 
they  understand  him  or  not,  and  to  repeat  the  same 
thing,  by  giving  it  different  terms,  until  he  perceives  it 
is  understood,  an  advantage  those  cannot  have  who,  by  a 
servile  dependence  upon  their  memories,  learn  tlicir 
sermons  by  heart  and  repeat  them  as  so  many  lessons. 
Let  not  the  praicher,"  he  continues,  "  become  the  servant 
of  words ;  rather  let  words  be  servants  to  tiie  preacher." 

This  advice  Avill  be  equally  applicable  to  others  tlian^ 
preachers  who  may  possess  a  serious  purpose.  But  the 
charity  of  Augustine  allo\ys  of  reciting  under  certain  cir- 
cumstances. He  Avell  says :  "  Those  who  are  des- 
titute of  invention,  but  can  speak  well,  provided  they 
select  Avell-written  discourses  of  another  man,  and  com- 
mit them  to  memory  for  the  instruction  of  their  hearers, 
will  not  do  badly  if  they  take  that  course."  No  doubt 
he  intended  that  due  credit  should  be  given  to  the  real 
author. 

Of  Luther  it  was  said  that  "  his  words  were  half  bat- 
tles." No  man  ever  wielded  greater  power  over  the 
hearts  of  tlie  people.  He  was  an  excellent  writer,  and 
had  great  command  of  words.  But  he  was  too  terribly 
in  earnest  to  write  his  discourses.  From  a  vast  fullness 
of  knowledge  he  spoke  right  out,  and  evoked  tears  or 
smiles  at  pleasure.  His  strong  emotions  and  indomita- 
ble will,  being  given  full  play,  bore  down  everything 
before  him. 


36  EXTEMPORE    SrEECH. 

It  may  well  be  doubted  Avhether  the  eloquence  of  Lord 
Chatham  did  not  surpass,  in  immediate  eifect,  anything 
recorded  of  Demosthenes  or  Cicero.  His  example,  and 
that  of  his  equally  gifted  son,  thoroughly  refute  those 
who  deny  that  unwritten  speech  may  convey  impressions 
as  strong  as  any  ever  made  by  man  upon  his  fellows. 
Some  of  his  grandest  efforts  were  entirely  impromptu, 
achieving  overwhelming  success  under  circumstances 
which  would  have  left  the  man  of  manuscript  or  of 
memory  utterly  helpless. 

Of  William  Pitt,  the  son  of  Lord  Chatham,  who  was 
likewise  an  extempore  speaker  in  the  best  sense  of  the 
word,  Macaulay  says : 

"  At  his  first  appearance  in  Parliament  he  showed 
himself  superior  to  all  his  contemporaries  in  power  of 
language.  He  could  pour  out  a  long  succession  of 
rounded  and  stately  periods  without  ever  pausing  for  a 
word,  without  ever  repeating  a  Avord,  in  a  voice  of  silver 
clearness  and  with  a  pronunciation  so  articulate  that  not 
a  letter  was  slurred  over." 

These  two  men  were  never  excelled  in  debate.  They 
had  that  great  advantage  peculiar  to  good  extempore 
speakers  of  being  always  ready.  Every  advantage 
offered  was  seized  at  the  most  favorable  moment.  Time 
wasted  by  others  in  Mriting  and  memorizing  special 
oratious  they  used  in  ac<'unndaling  such  stores  of  gen- 
eral knowledge  and  in  such  wide  culture  that  they  were 


EXPERIENCE  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS.      37 

always  prepared.  They  came  to  great  intellectual  eon- 
tests  with  minds  unfagged  by  the  labor  of  previous  com- 
position, and  their  words  were  indescribably  fresh  and 
charming,  because  born  at  the  moment  of  utterance. 

The  traditions  of  the  almost  supernatural  eloquence  of 
Patrick  Henry  are  dear  to  the  heart  of  every  American 
school-boy.  AVliile  few  specimens  of  his  eloquence  sur- 
vive, it  is  sure  that  he  exerted  ^vonderfuI  power  in 
speech,  and  tliat  he  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  estab- 
lishment of  the  American  Republic.  He  never  Avrote  a 
word  either  before  or  after  delivery,  and  his  mightiest 
efforts  were  made  in  situations  Ashere  the  use  of  the  pen 
would  have  been  impossible.  The  Virginia  Resolutions, 
which  mark  a  vital  })oint  in  the  histoiy  of  the  Revolu- 
tionarv  struggle,  were  written  by  him  on  tlie  blank  leaf 
of  a  law  book  while  a  discussion  was  in  progress.  In 
the  whole  of  the  terrible  debate  which  followed  he  waa 
ever  ready,  speaking  repeatedly  and  mastering  every 
opponent.  He  was  a  great  thinker,  but  a  meager  ^\•riter. 
History  and  human  character  were  his  favorite  studies, 
and  these  contributed  to  fit  his  Avondcrful  natural  genius 
for  coming  triumph. 

Among  the  great  English  preaclicrs  of  'the  past  cen- 
tury two  were  especially  gr(>at  as  measured  by  the 
degree  of  popular  influence  they  "wielded.  AVe  do  not 
wish  to  consider  Wesley  and  AVhitefield  in  any  other 
light  than  as  effective  orators.     Tluy  each  did  an  amount 

2.5r5n2r> 


38  EXTEMPOEE    SPEECH. 

of  speaking  that  a  manuscript  reader  would  have  found 
impossible,  even  if  the  latter  had  been  hindered  by  no 
other  consideration.  At  the  begining  Whitefield  did 
memorize  most  of  his  sermons.  Even  afterward  he 
treated  the  same  subject  so  frequently  when  addressing 
diiferent  audiences  that  the  words,  tones,  and  gestures, 
as  w'ell  as  the  outline  of  thought,  became  quite  familiar. 
Yet  his  own  testimony  is  decisive  as  to  the  fact  that  he 
was  not  a  memoritor  preacher  in  the  narrow  sense  of 
the  term.  He  says  that  m  hen  he  came  to  preach  he  had 
often,  in  his  own  apprehension,  "not  a  word  to  say  to 
God  or  man."  Think  of  a  person  who  has  a  folly 
memorized  speech,  which  he  is  conning  over  in  liis  mind, 
making  such  a  declaration,  and  afterward  thanking  God 
for  having  given  him  words  and  wisdom  !  Whitefield's 
published  sermons  show  few  traces  of  the  pen,  but  bear 
every  mark  of  impassioned  utterance.  He  spoke  every 
day,  until  speaking  became  part  of  his  very  life.  Think 
what  a  command  of  language,  and  of  all  the  resources 
of  speech,  he  must  thus  have  acquired  ! 

Wesley  wrote  many  sermons,  and  on  a  very  few 
occasions  read  them.  He  used  the  pen  almost  as  much 
as  the  voice,  but  he  wrote  sermons,  books,  and  letters 
for  others  to  read,  not  as  material  for  his  own  public 
reading.  He  was  less  impassioned  and  overwhelming 
than  Whitefield  but  his  sermons  were  not  less  effective. 
They  were  noted  for  the  quality  of  exactness  of  state- 


EXPERIENCE  OF  EMINENT  ORATORS.      39 

Dieut.  Ill  the  must  easy  and  fluent  manner  he  said  pre- 
cisely what  he  wanted  to  say.  He  was  never  compelled 
to  retract  an  unguarded  expression  into  which  he  had  been 
hurried  by  the  ardor  of  the  moment.  Yet  his  power 
over  his  hearers  was  not  diminished  by  this  carefulness. 
Scenes  of  physical  excitement,  such  as  attended  the 
preaching  of  Whitefield,  were  even  more  marked  under 
his  own  calm  words. 

We  will  refer  to  another  deceased  preacher,  who  pre- 
sents the  strange  preculiarity  of  being  an  extempore 
speaker  whose  great  fame  has  been  acquired  since  his 
eloquent  voice  became  silent  in  death,  and  now  rests 
upon  his  written  sermons.  Frederick  AV.  Robertson 
labored  in  a  comparatively  narrow  field  and  finished  his 
career  m  youth,  but  he  was  truly  eloquent.  His  exam- 
ple proves  that  extempore  speech  may  be  tlie  vehicle  of 
the  most  profound  thought  and  be  crowned  with  all  the 
graces  of  style.  These  qualities  have  given  his  sermons 
greater  popularity  in  high  scientific,  literary,  and  ])hilo- 
sophical  circles,  than  those  of  any  preacher  of  the  present 
day.  How  could  such  extempore  sermons  be  preserved  ? 
A  few  were  taken  down  by  a  short-hand  reporter,  and 
although  Robertson  refused  to  allow  their  publication  in 
his  life-time,  thus  leaving  them  without  the  benefit  of 
his  corrections,  they  are  almost  faultless  in  form  and 
expression.  Others  were  written  out  by  his  own  hand 
afler  delivery,  but  these  are  more  or  less  fragmentary. 


40  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

Had  it  been  uecej^.sary  for  him  to  \vrite  and  memorize 
each  sermon,  he  could  never  have  pursued  those  thorough 
studies,  descriljed  in  liis  letters,  from  which  he  derived 
so  much  of  his  poAver. 

The  great  trio  of  American  political  orators  belong- 
ing to  the  generation  which  has  just  gone  from  the 
stage — Clay,  Webster,  and  Calhoun — were  extempore 
speakers ;  Clay  and  Calhoun  always,  and  AVebster 
usually,  speaking  in  that  manner.  The  latter,  however, 
was  fond  of  elaborating  some  striking  thought  in  his 
mind  to  the  last  degree  of  word-finish,  and  then  bring- 
ing it  forth  in  the  rush  of  spontaneous  utterance.  This 
did  not  make  his  speech  composite  in  the  mode  of 
delivery,  for  these  prepared  gems  were  short  fragments, 
employed  only  for  ornamental  purposes.  Competitors 
of  these  great  men  who  were  obliged  to  rely  upon  man- 
uscript or  memory  stood  no  chance  of  success  in  the 
fiery  debates  through  which  they  passed. 

From  hundreds  of  living  extemporizers  we  will  call 
attention  to  but  three,  and  these  of  the  highest  eminence. 
They  are  all  distinguished  writers  and  do  not  rely  on 
the  extempore  method  of  discourse  because  of  inability 
to  succeetl  in  other  methods.  These  men  are  Henry 
Ward  Beecher,  Charles  H.  Spurgeon,  and  William  E. 
Gladstone.  The  amount  and  cpiality  of  work  of  all 
kinds  they  have  accomplished  would  have  been  impos- 
sil)le  for  speecli-readei's  or  recitei's.     Beecher  sometimes 


EXPERIEXCE    OF    EMINENT   ORATORS.  41 

reads  a  sermon  or  a  lecture,  but  though  he  reads  well, 
the  effect  is  small  as  compared  with  the  fire  and  con- 
summate eloquence  of  his  extempore  addresses.  Spurgeon 
has  drawn  together  and  maintains  probably  the  largest 
congregation  that  ever  regularly  attended  the  ministry 
of  one  man,  and  he  is  purely  extemporaneous.  Both 
these  men  are  subjected  to  the  additional  test  of  having 
their  sermons  written  from  their  lips  and  widely  pub- 
lished, thus  showing  that  their  popularity  has  otlier 
elements  besides  the  personal  presence  and  magnetism  of 
the  speakers. 

The  wonderful  power  of  Gladstone  has  been  displayed 
unceasingly  for  half  a  century.  While  eager  critics, 
hostile  as  well  as  friendly,  in  Parliament  or  at  the  hust- 
ings, are  waiting  to  catch  every  word  from  his  lips,  he 
does  not  find  it  necessary  to  control  his  utterances  through 
the  use  of  the  pen.  Day  after  day,  in  the  midst  of 
heated  canvasses,  he  discusses  a  wide  range  of  compli- 
cated questions,  and  neither  friend  nor  foe  ever  suggests 
that  he  could  do  better  if  his  words  were  written  out  ajid 
memorized.  Even  in  such  addresses  as  include  the 
details  of  finance  and  abound  in  statistics  he  uses  but  a 
few  disconnected  figures  traced  on  a  slip  of  pajaer.  Some 
years  ago,  when  his  modes  of  speech  were  less  known 
than  now,  the  writer  asked  him  to  give  a  statement  of 
his  method  of  preparation,  and  any  advice  he  might  feel 
disposed  to  convey  to  young  students  of  oratory.     The 


42  EXTEMP(J1!E    .SPEECH. 

fblU)\ving'  courteous  and   deeply   interesting  letter  was 

received  in  reply,  and  with  its  weighty  words  we  may 

appropriately  close  this  chapter  : 

Hawardex,  North  Wales,      \ 
October  12th,  18G7.  j 

Sri; : — Though  I  fear  it  is  beyond  my  power  to  com- 
ply in  any  useful  manner  with  your  request,  I  am  uuwill- 
in*r  to  seem  insensible  to  vour  wishes. 

I  venture  to  remark,  first,  that  your  countrymen,  so 
far  as  a  very  limittH_l  intercourse  and  experience  can 
enable  me  to  judge,  stand  very  little  in  need  of  instruc- 
tion or  advice  as  to  public  speaking  from  this  side  of  the 
water.  And  further,  again  s])eaking  of  my  own  expe- 
rience, I  think  that  the  public  men  of  England  are 
beyo-nd  all  others  engrossed  by  the  multitude  of  cares 
and  subjects  of  thought  belonging  to  the  government  of  a 
iiighly  diversified  empire,  and  therefore  are  probably 
less  than  otliers  qualifial  either  to  impart  to  others  the 
best  methods  of  preparing  public  discourses  or  to  con- 
sider and  adopt  them  for  themselves. 

8up})ose,  however,  I  Avas  to  make  the  attempt,  I 
should  certainly  foiuid  myself  mainly  on  a  double  basis, 
coni])()un(led  as  follows  :  First,  of  a  wide  and  thorough 
general  education,  which  1  think  gives  a  su])))leness  and 
readiness  as  well  as  firmness  of  tissue  to  the  mind  mtt 
easily  to  be  had  without  this  form  of  discipline.  Sei'ond, 
of  the  habit  of  constant  and  searching  rellei'tiou  on  the 
subject  of  any  proposed  discourse.  Such  reflection  w  ill 
naturally  clothe  itself  in  words,  and  of  the  phrases  it 
supplies  many  will  spontaneously  rise  to  the  lips.  I 
will  not  say  that  no  other  forms  of  preparation  can  be 


EXPERIENCE   OF    EMINENT   AUTHOER.  43 

useful,  but  I  know  little  of  them,  and  it  is  on  those, 
beycnt]  all  doubt,  that  I  should  advise  the  young  prinei- 
pally  *o  rely. 

I  remain,  sir,  your  most  obedient  servant, 

W.  E.  Gladstone. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

As  Embryo  Speech,  with  Models  of  Very  Simple 
Plans. 

The  first  extemporaneous  speeches  attempted  should  be 
of  the  siuiplest  character.  Too  high  an  ideal  formed  at 
the  outset  may  be  very  harmful  by  causing  neeflless 
discouragement.  To  speak  freely  in  any  manner,  how- 
ever rude,  until  confidence  and  the  power  of  making 
every  faculty  available  are  acquired,  should  be  the  first 
great  object.  Many  persons  are  slaves  of  bad  habits 
throuo;h  life  because  thev  beo;an  wrone;.  Nothing  harms 
an  orator  more  than  cultivating  his  critical  taste  far 
beyond  his  power  of  ready  utterance.  There  is  no 
necessary  relation  between  the  develo])mcnt  of  the  two 
things.  -To  become  a  fine  word-critic  and  master  of  an 
excellent  written  style  does  not  imply  the  power  to  strilce 
off  finely  finished  sentences  at  the  speed  of  the  tongue ; 
but  it  does  tend  to  render  the  speaker  dissatisfied  with 
anything  below  the  level  of  his  written  performances, 
and  thus  clu'cks  his  fluency.  To  master  the  difficult  art 
of  written  com])ositi()n  first,  and  strive  afteinvard  to  gain 
a  similar  proficiency  in  spoken  words,  is  a  complete 
reversal  of  the  natural  metliod,  and  in  all  but  a  few 
gifital  minds  ])ut.s  a  ])reniiiim  oii  ihilure.     An  unlettered 

44 


AN    EMBRYO    SPEECH.  45 

rustic  may  speak  \vith  perfect  ease,  because  he  is  not 
conscious  of  the  numberless  verbal  blunders  he  falls  into ; 
but  if  it  Avere  possible,  by  some  process  of  spiritual  infu- 
sion, to  put  him  in  possession  of  a  fine,  critical  taste,  he 
would  be  instantly  smitten  dumb. 

The  true  method  is  to  cultivate  the  faculty  of  extem- 
porization side  by  side  with  critical  judgment.  In  case 
that  is  done,  ease  and  confidence  will  not  be  for  a 
moment  disturbed.  It  thus  appears  that  while  an  ex- 
tempore speaker  can  never  know  too  nuich,  it  is  quite 
possible  for  his  knowledge  and  cultivation  to  advance  in 
the  wrong  order.  The  pen  Avill  be  of  perpetual  use  to 
the  speaker ;  but  his  command  of  it  nnist  not  increase 
so  rapidly  in  proportion  as  to  make  him  ashamed  of  his 
tongue. 

From  this  reasoning  it  follows  tliat  the  best  time  to 
lay  the  foundation  of  excellence  in  speech  is  very  early  in 
life.  Speeches  made  then  are  necessarily  flimsy  and  rudi- 
mentary, but  they  are  not  the  less  valuable  on  that 
account.  They  are  to  hv  esti  nated  not  for  their  own 
worth,  but  for  tluir  ro-ults  uixm  the  mind  producing 
them.  The  schoolboy's  first  "  composition  "  has  alwayfs 
been  a  mark  f  r  chei}^  witticism  ;  but  the  boy  himself 
regards  it  with  justifiable  pride,  as  the  first  step  in  the 
noble  work  of  putting  thought  on  paper.  The  same 
pains  and  patience  applied  to  tlic  art  of  public  talk- 
uig  as  to  written  composition  will  pn  dmc  equal   fruit. 


46  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

A  few  directions  intended  to  aid  in  overcoming  some 
of  the  initial  difficulties  of  speech,  which  may  serve 
as  suggestions  to  teachers  as  well  as  helps  to  solitary 
students,  are  here  appended.  They  are  purposely  made 
of  almost  ludicrous  crudeness,  but  will  not,  it  is  trusted, 
be  less  serviceable  on  that  account ;  for  it  is  not  so 
important  to  aid  the  mature  speaker  in  giving  the  last 
fine  strokes  of  genius  to  a  masterly  oration,  as  it  is  to 
stimulate  and  guide  beginners  in  their  first  stammering 
utterances. 

The  simplest  oration  or  formal  address  that  can  be 
constructed  has  three  distinct  parts.  With  these  we 
will  begin  the  great  work  of  division  and  arrangement. 
They  may  be  named  as  follows  : 

1.  The  Introduction. 

2.  The  Discussion. 

3.  The  Conclusion. 

On  this  framework  a  speech-plan  can  be  constructed 
simple  enough  for  any  child.  And  it  is  at  the  same 
time  true  that  even  a  child,  with  such  a  plan,  might 
speak  appropriately  who  would  otherwise  not  be  able  to 
begin  at  all. 

We  will  consider  these  three  parts  in  their  order. 

The  introduction  is  at  once  important  and  embarrass- 
ing. First  words  are  nearly  always  heard  attentively, 
and  they  do  much  to  determine  the  degree  of  attention 
that  will  be  bestowed  on  the  remainder  of  the  speech. 


AN     EMBRYO    SPEECH.  47 

The  young  speaker  should  select  something  as  an  intro- 
duction upon  which  his  mind  can  fasten,  instead  of 
dwelling  upon  the  frightful  generality  of  the  naked 
theme.  Neither  is  it  hard  to  construct  a  good  introduc- 
tion if  a  few  i)lain  directions  are  heeded,  which  will  l)e 
more  fully  given  in  a  succewling  clia])tcr.  All  j)ersons 
feel  the  neetl  of  some  kind  of  a  formal  opening,  and 
therefore  often  begin  with  an  ajiology — tlie  very  worst 
form  of  an  introduction,  because  it  is  not  interesting  in 
itself  and  does  not  lead  up  to  the  subjet't. 

In  rudimentary  speech,  wliicli  we  are  now  considering, 
the  introduction  should  be  simple,  and,  above  everything 
else,  easy  for  the  speaker  to  comprehend  and  rememl)er. 
If  there  is  anything  in  the  wliolc  world  which  he  is  sure 
he  can  talk  aljout  for  a  few  moments,  and  which  can  lye 
made  to  have  a  moderate  degree  of  connection  with  his 
subject,  let  that  be  chosen  for  an  ojiening.  If  it  is  also 
vivid  and  striking  in  itself,  and  familiar  to  the  audience, 
so  much  the  better;  but  this  quality  should  not  be  in- 
sisted upon  in  these  first  attempts. 

When  the  introductory  topic  is  selected  it  should  be 
turned  over  in  the  mind  until  the  speaker  knows  just 
what  he  is  going  to  say  about  it.  This  process  will  have 
a  wonderfully  quieting  effect  upon  his  nerves.  He  has 
fairly  mastered  something,  and  knows  tliat  at  all  events 
he  can  begin  his  speech.  It  is  well  to  make  a  note  of 
this    introduction    in    a    few  simple   words  which  will 


48  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

strongly  fasten  themselves  in  the  memory.  No  effort 
toward  elaboration  should  be  made,  for  that  would 
naturally  lead  to  a  memorized  introduction,  and  either 
require  the  whole  speech  to  be  written,  or  produce  a 
painful  and  difficult  transition. 

The  discussion  deals  directly  with  the  subject  or 
central  idea  of  the  discourse.  Here  a  clear  statement  of 
at  least  one  thought  wdiich  the  speaker  can  fully  grasp 
should  be  made.  The  pen  (or  pencil)  may  be  used  in 
preparatioji  without  impropriety.  If  but  one  idea  is 
thought  of,  let  that  be  written  in  the  fewest  and  strongest 
words  at  the  student's  command.  While  doing  this  it  is 
likely  that  another  and  related  thought  will  spring  into 
mind  which  can  be  treated  in  the  same  manner.  AVith 
diligent  students  there  may  even  be  a  danger  of  getting 
down  too  many  seed-thoughts.  But  that  contingency  is 
provided  for  in  the  cliapters  on  the  fully  developed  plan, 
and  needs  no  further  notice  at  this  time. 

AVhen  this  central  division  is  completely  wrought  out, 
two  other  points  claim  attention.  How  shall  the  transi- 
tion be  made  from  the  introduction  to  the  discussion  ? 
A  little  reflection  will  sliow  how  to  glide  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  that  ])rocess  should  be  conned  over,  without 
writing,  until  it  is  well  understood.  It  is  wonderful 
how  many  outlines  of  ideas  the  memory  will  retain 
without  feeling  burdened ;  and  this  power  of  retention 
grows  enormously  through  exercise. 


AX    EMBRYO    .SI'EECH.  49 

After  this,  the  mode  of  gliding  from  the  discussion  to 
the  conclusion  may  be  treated  in  the  same  manner,  and 
with  equal  profit.  The  conclusion  itself  is  scarcely  less 
material  than  the  introduction ;  but  there  is  much  less 
range  of  choice  in  the  manner  of  closing  than  in  that  of 
beginning.  The  subject  is  before  the  audience,  and  any 
wide  departure  from  it  seems  like  the  beginning  of  a  new 
speech — something  not  usually  well  received.  There  is 
this  distinction  betM-eeii  the  relative  value  of  introduction 
and  conclusion :  a  good  introduction  adds  most  to  a 
speaker's  ease,  confidence,  and  power  during  the  moment 
of  speech ;  but  a  good  conclusion  leaves  the  deepest  per- 
manent impression  upon  the  audience.  It  is  usually 
remembered  longer  than  any  other  ])art  of  the  address. 

When  a  discourse  has  been  prepared  in  this  simple 
manner  it  has  virtually  five  parts — three  written  and 
two  held  in  memory.  From  such  an  outline  it  is  far 
more  easy  to  make  an  address  than  from  the  bare  an- 
nouncement of  a  theme.  It  is  trn(^  that  all  these  parts 
may  be  formed  and  held  in  mind  Avithout  ever  making 
a  pen-stroke.  A  practical  orator  will  do  this,  in  a 
moment,  when  unexpectedly  called  upon  ;  or  he  may  only 
forecast  the  introduction  and  trust  to  finding  the  plan  as 
fast  as  it  is  needed.  But  in  this  he  is  no  model  for  imi- 
tation by  beginners.  Even  })owerful  orators  sometimes 
spoil  the  whole  effect  of  a  good  address  by  an  unfor- 
tunate mode  of  closing.     They  may  forget  to  close  in 


50  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

time — a  grievous  fault ! — or  may  finish  Avith  some  weak 
thought  or  extravagant  proposition,  by  which  the  whole 
speech  is  mainly  judged  and  all  its  good  points  neu- 
tralized. The  construction  of  even  as  simple  a  plan  as 
here  indicated  would  have  more  than  double  the  effect 
of  many  speeches  made  by  great  men. 

A  few  simple  and  rude  plans  are  annexed.  No  merit 
is  sought  for  in  any  one  of  them  beyond  making  plain 
the  method  recommended. 

PLANS  OF  SPEECHES. 

EXAMPLE  FIRST. 

Subject. — Chinese  Emigration  to  America. 

Introduction. — The  number  of  emigrants  to 
our  country  and  the  nations  they  rej^resent. 
[A  totally  different  and  more  effective  introduction 
might  be  the  description  of  a  group  of  Chinese  as  seen 
by  the  speaker.] 

Discussion. — The  nature,  amount,  and  present 
effect  of  Chinese  emigration. 
[It  is  possible  for  the  speaker  in  his  introduction  to 
foreshadow  the  position  he  expects  to  maintain  in  his 
speech ;  or  he  may  make  a  colorless  introduction  and 
reserve  his  opinion  for  the  discussion.  The  material 
under  this  head  is  unlimited.  It  is  only  necessary  from 
the  oratorical  stand-point  that  the  speaker  should  deter- 
mine what  course  to  take,  and  then  carefully  think  out 
in  advance  or  read — for  history  and  statistics  cannot  be 


AN    EMBRYO    SPEECH.  51 

improvised — all  about  that  which  he  intends  to  use. 
When  he  can  tell  it  all  over  easily  to  himself  he  may 
reasonably  feel  assured  of  his  ability  to  tell  it  to  others. 
The  various  arguments  should  be  weighed  and  the  best 
selectetl.  That  which  most  naturally  connects  Avitli  the 
introduction  should  be  firndy  fixed  in  the  mind  as  the 
first,  that  it  may  form  the  bridge  from  the  one  part  to 
the  other.] 

CoNCT.usiox. — Results  of  policy  advocated,  either 
prolictal,  describetl,  or  shown  to  be  probable. 
Mode  of  remedying;  evils  that  might  be  aj)pre- 
hended  from  that  policy. 

[In  the  conclusion  the  speaker  may  take  upon  himself 
the  character  of  a  prophet,  poet,  or  logician.  He  may 
predict  results  and  let  tlio  statement  make  its  own 
impression.  He  may  i)ut  all  emphasis  upon  a  vivid 
painting  of  the  future  ccjlored  by  the  views  he  advocates ; 
or  he  may  sum  up  his  reasons,  deduce  consequences,  and 
weigh  alternatives.  The  choice  between  these  ditferent 
modes  may  be  made  instinctively,  or  it  may  recpiire  con- 
siderable mental  etibrt,  but  when  made,  the  best  mode  of 
transition  will  be  very  easily  found.] 

In  all  this  process,  wliich  in  tlie  case  of  undisciplined 
speakers  may  extend  over  many  days  of  hard  work,  the 
pen  may  be  used  freely,  making  copious  notes  of  facts 
and  arguments.  After  enough  has  been  accumulated 
and  put  in  such  shape  that  the  speaker  can  easily  look 
over  the  entire  field,  he  is  ready  for  another  process — 
that  of  simplifying  his  plan.     Rough  and  copious  notes 


52  EXTEMPOEE    SPEECH. 

brought  with  him  to  the  platform  would  only  be  a  source 
of  embarrassment.  But  the  germ  of  his  ideas,  which 
are  now  familiar,  can  be  put  into  very  small  compass. 
Perhaps  the  following  would  recall  everything  in  the 
preceding  outline : 

The  Chinkse  Question. 

1.  Experience. 

2.  Arguments. 

3.  Results. 

But  it  is  clear  that  a  skeleton  containing  only  three 
words  need  not  be  kept  in  view.  The  whole  outline  of 
the  speech  will  therefore  be  in  the  mind.  If  numerous 
figures  or  citations  from  authorities  are  employed,  they 
may  be  classified  and  read  from  books  or  notes,  as  needed. 
Such  reading  in  no  way  detracts  from  the  extempora- 
neous character  of  the  address,  though  if  too  numerous 
they  tend  to  damp  oratorical  fire  and  break  the  unity  of 
discourse.  One  who  has  had  no  personal  experience,  or 
who  has  not  carefully  observed  the  methods  of  other 
speakers,  can  scarcely  imagine  how  much  a  simple  out- 
line, such  as  here  suggested,  accomplishes  in  removing 
the  confusion,  fear,  and  hesitation  which  characterize 
beginners. 

Another  specimen,  not  of  controversial  character,  is 
subjoined. 


AX   EMBBYO    SPEECH.  53 

EXAMPLE  SECOND. 

Subject. — The  Ocean. 

Introduction. — The  vastness  of  the  oceaii. 
No  one  person  has  seen  more  than  a  small  part 
of  it.  Power  evidenced  by  storm  and  ship- 
wrecks. 

Discussion. — Fi\  e  threat  divisions  of  the  ocean. 
Use  in  nature,  watering  and  tempering  the 
land ;  in  commerce,  as  a  liighway ;  in  history,  by 
dividing  and  uniting  nations ;  its  mystery,  etc. 

Conclusion. — Proof  of  the  Creator's  power 
and  wisdom  found  in  the  ocean. 

The  Same  Plan  Condensed. 

Subject. — The  Ocean. 

1.  Vastness  and  Poaver. 

2.  Parts,  Use,  and  Mystery. 

3.  Evidence. 

Dean  Swift's  Sermon. 

This  eccentric  clergyman  once  preached  a  sermon  shor- 
ter than  its  own  text,  yet  liaving  all  the  three  parts  of 
which  Mc  have  spoken.  The  text  was  Prov.  xix,  20: 
"He  that  pitietli  tlie  ])oor  lendcth  to  the  Lord;  and 
that  which  he  liath  given  will  He  pay  him  again." 

The  sermon  was : 

"  Brethren,  you  liear  the  condition  ;  if  you  like  the 
security,  down  with  the  dust." 


54  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

The  collection  is  said  to  have  been  munificent. 

In  this  short  sermon  the  text  with  the  Mord  "  Breth- 
ren "  constitutes  the  introduction ;  the  phrase,  "  you  hear 
the  condition,"  is  a  good  transition  to  the  discussion 
contained  in  the  next  member,  "  if  you  like  the  security," 
which  assumes  the  truth  of  the  text,  makes  its  general 
declarations  present  and  personal,  and  prepares  the  way 
for  the  forcible  and  practical,  if  not  very  elegant,  con- 
clusion, "down  with  the  dust." 

Among  the  many  speeches  found  in  Shakespeare,  the 
existence  of  these  three  essential  parts  may  easily  be 
noted.  The  funeral  speeches  over  the  dead  body  of  Julius 
Csesar  afford  an  excellent  example.  The  merit  of  the 
orations  of  Brutus  and  Antony  are  very  unequal,  but 
both  are  instructive.     We  will  analyze  tliem  in  turn. 

Brutus  speaks  first.  He  shows  his  want  of  apprecia- 
tion of  the  true  nature  of  persuasive  eloquence  by 
declaring  that  this  will  be  an  advantage.  His  introduc- 
tion is  also  too  long  and  elaborate  for  the  ^vork  he  has  in 
hand.  The  central  thought  with  which  he  opens  is  in 
substance,  "  I  am  worthy  of  your  closest  attention." 
This  cannot  be  considered  a  fortunate  beginniug,  and  it 
M'onld  have  been  fatal  for  any  one  less  highly  esteemed 
by  the  people  than  "the  Mell-beloved  Brutus."  He 
says: 

Brutus'  Speech. 

"Romans,  countrymen,  and  lovers !  hear  me  for  my 


AN    EMBRYO   SPEECH.  55 

cause,  and  be  silent  that  you  may  hear ;  believe  me  for 
mine  honor,  and  have  respect  to  mine  honor  that  you 
mav  believe ;  censure  me  in  your  wisdom  and  awake 
your  senses  that  you  may  tiie  better  judge." 

This  introduction  is  a  master-piece  of  Shakespeare's 
art,  because  it  pictures  so  well  the  character  of  Brutus 
in  his  dignity  and  blind  self-confidence;  but  for  Brutus 
it  is  unfortunate,  because  it  puts  him  on  the  defensive 
and  makes  the  people  his  judges.  He  must  now  plead 
well,  or  they  will  condemn  him. 

In  the  dis(;ussion  the  thought  simply  is,  "I  was 
Caesar's  friend,  and  therefore  you  may  well  believe  that 
I  would  not  have  killed  him  if  he  had  not  deserved 
death  because  of  his  ambition."  This  is  the  whole 
argument,  and  it  is  weak  because  it  does  not  ])rove  the 
ambition  of  Caisar,  or  show  that  ambition  on  Caesar's 
part  was  a  crime  which  Brutus  had  a  right  to  punish 
with  death.  The  antithetic  sentences  lack  both  logic  and 
passion.  As  they  touch  neither  head  nor  heart,  they 
can  have  but  Blight  and  momentary  eifect.  Notice  the 
discussion  as  an  example  of  fine  words  which  do  not 
.serve  their  purpose. 

"  If  there  be  any  in  this  assembly,  any  dear  friend  of 
Caesar's,  to  him  I  say  that  Brutus'  love  to  Csesar  was 
no  less  than  his.  If,  then,  that  friend  demand  wliy 
Brutus  rose  against  Caesar,  this  is  my  answer :  Xot  that 
I  loved  Caesar  less,  but  that  I  loved  Rome  more.     Had 


56  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

you  rather  Ciesar  were  liviiio-,  uiul  tlie  all  slaves,  than 
that  Cicisar  were  dead,  to  live  all  treenien?  As  Caesar 
loved  me,  I  weep  for  him  ;  as  he  was  fortunate,  I  4'cjoice 
at  it ;  as  he  was  valiant,  I  honor  him ;  but  as  he  was 
ambitious,  1  slew  him.  There  are  tears  for  his  love,  joy 
for  his  fortune,  honor  foi-  liis  valor,  and  death  for  his 
ambition.  Who  is  hero  so  base  that  woukl  l)e  a  bond- 
man ?  If  any,  speak  ;  for  him  have  I  offended.  AVho 
is  here  so  rude,  tliat  would  not  ])C  a  Roman?  If  any, 
speak;  for  him  have  I  offended.  Who  is  here  so  vile 
that  will  not  love  his  country ?  If  any,  speak;  for 
him  have  I  offendal.     I  pause  for  a  reply." 

As  sevei'al  citizens  cry  out,  "  None,  Brutus,  none,"  he 
passes  to  the  conclusion,  \\hich  is  as  weak  as  the  discus- 
sion. 

"  Then  none  have  I  offended.  I  have  done  no  more 
to  Csesar,  than  you  shall  do  to  Brutus.  As  I  slew  my 
best  lover  for  the  good  of  Rome,  I  have  the  same  dagger 
for  myself,  when  it  shall  please  my  country  to  need  my 
death." 

He  has  gained  nothing  by  the  whole  speech,  save  tlie 
knowledge  that  none  of  the  citizens  present  care  at  that 
time  to  impeaeh  him  for  his  crime ;  but  their  minds 
were  open  to  other  influences.  Shakespeare  thus  shows 
how  an  able  man  might  use  all  his  powers  in  the  per- 
fection of  oratorical  and  rhetorical  forms,  without  pro- 
ducing a  great  or  effective  speech.  Antony  now  comes 
forward.     Behold  the  contrast ! 


an  embryo  speech.  57 

Antony's  Speech. 
The  introduction  is  like  and  unlike  that  of  Brutus. 
The  same  three  titles  are  used  ;  the  same  call  for  attention. 
But  there  is  no  i-epetition,  no  egotism,  no  elaboration. 
The  introduction  is  short,  calling  attention  to  his  osten- 
sible pur])<)se,  and  prepares  for  a  beautiful  transition  to 
the  discussion. 

IXTliODUCTIOX. 

"  Friends,  Romans,  countrymen,  lend  me  your  ears. 
I  come  to  burv  Ca'sar,  not  to  praise  him," 

There  is  not  a  superfluous  word,  lint  how  can 
Antony  glide  into  those  praises  of  ("tesar,  which  he 
has  disclaimed,  but  wiiich  are  necessary  to  his  })urpose? 
Tlie  next  sentence  solves  the  (juestion  : 

"  The  evil  that  jnen  do  lives  after  them  ; 
The  good  is  oft  internal  with  their  bones ; 
So  let  it  be  with  ( 'tesar." 

This  leads  most  naturally  to  the  thought  of  the  dis- 
cussion, which  is,  "  No  event  of  Caesar's  life  shows  guilty 
anibition ;  but  many  do  reveal  love  to  the  people  and 
care  for  the  general  welflire.  He  should,  therefore,  be 
mourned,  and — the  next  word  is  not  supplicnl  by  the 
orator,  but  forced  from  the  hearts  of  the  jKople — 
avenged!  AVe  quote  a  few  only  of  the  well-known 
words : 


58  extempore  speech. 

The  Discussiox. 
"  The  noble  Brutus 
Hath  told  you  Csesar  was  ambitious ; 
If  it  were  so,  it  were  a  grievous  fault, 
And  grievously  hath  Caesar  answered  it. 
Here,  under  leave  of  Brutus  and  the  rest, 
(For  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man, 
So  are  they  all,  all  honorable  men,) 
Come  I  to  speak  in  Caesar's  funeral. 
He  was  my  friend,  faithful  and  just  to  me ; 
But  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious. 
And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 
He  hath  brought  many  captives  home  to  Rome, 
AVhose  ransom  did  the  general  coffers  fill. 
Did  this  in  Caesar  seem  ambitious  ? 
When  that  the  poor  hath  cried  Caesar  hath  wept. 
Ambition  should  be  made  of  sterner  stuff. 
Yet  Brutus  says  he  was  ambitious. 
And  Brutus  is  an  honorable  man. 
You  all  did  see,  that,  on  the  Lupercal, 
I  thrice  presented  him  a  kingly  crown, 
Which  he  did  thrice  refuse.     Was  this  ambition?" 

Tlie  strongest  argument  against  belief  in  guilty 
ambition  on  the  part  of  Caesar  and  in  favor  of  punishing 
his  murderers  is  reserved  by  the  subtle  Antony  for  the 
last,  and  then  he  manages  to  have  the  people  demand  it  of 
him.  He  proceeds  very  naturally  and  effectively  from 
the  rent  robe  and  the  bleeding  body  to  the  will  of  Caesar. 
This  instrument  gave  the  Romans  each  a  large  donation 


AX    EArr.RYO   SPEECH.  59 

in  money,  and  bestowed  upon  them  collectively  "  his 
walks,  his  private  arbors,  and  new -planted  orchards  "  as 
a  public  park.  The  argument  was  irresistible,  and 
needed  no  elaboration,  it'  lii^  death  was  avenged  as  a 
murder,  tlu'  will  would  be  valid;  otherwise,  it  would  be 
set  aside,  and  his  estate  contiscated  by  the  conspirators. 
The  people,  thus  fired  by  the  strongest  motives  of  grati- 
tude and  interest  themselves  supply  the  conclusion,  and 
llrutus  had  to  fly  Ibr  his  life. 

Tlic  whole  sjx'cch  is  woi-th  study  as  an  exhibition  of 
alni(»st  perfect  eloquence.  Shakespeare  meant  to  draw 
in  Brutus  the  picture  of  a  scholar  coming  before  the 
people  with  fine  words,  and  producing  little  more  tJuui  a 
literary  effect.  In  Antony  he  pictures  the  true  orator 
in  the  j)leutitudc  of  his  power,  to  whom  words  arc  but 
servants  in  aa'0m])lishing  his  purpose  of  })ersuading  and 
inflaming  the  peo])lc.  The  one  .speech  reads  as  if  it 
might  have  been  written  out  in  the  ch)sct  and  memorized  ; 
the  other  gushes  from  the  heart  of  the  sjx-aker  as  he 
watches  the  sea  of  uptui-ned  faces,  adapting  his  words 
with  exquisite  skill  to  suit  and  swell  the  passions  written 
•  there. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Initial  Fear  and  how  to  Overcome  it. 

However  nunierou.s  and  varied  may  be  the  classes  of 
those  who  contemplate  extempore  speech,  they  are  all 
confronted  by  one  common  difficulty.  AVhether  a  boy 
makes  his  maiden  effort,  or  a  man  of  wide  thought  and 
ripe  culture  attempts  for  the  first  time  to  dispense  a\  ith 
the  manuscript  in  which  he  has  trusted  through  years  of 
successful  public  speech,  the  fear  of  failing  looms  up 
before  each  of  them  in  a  manner  equally  formidable. 

The  writer  well  remembers  his  first  boyish  venture 
into  this  arena  of  peril.  A  debate  in  a  village  shoe- 
maker's shop  furnished  the  occasion.  Two  or  three 
"  speakers"  were  ranged  on  a  side,  and  the  question  was 
that  time-honored  controversy  of  country  lyceums — the 
com])arative  magnitude  of  the  wrongs  suffered  by  the 
Indians  and  the  Negroes  at  the  hands  of  the  American 
Government.  Which  side  the  writer  was  on,  or  what 
arguments  were  used,  has  long  since  been  forgotten,  but 
the  palpitating  heart,  the  terrible  suspense,  as  one  after 
another  of  the  preceding  speakers  made  his  remarks  and 
brouglit  the  terrible  moment  of  facing  the  audience 
nearer,  can  ne^-er  cease  to  l)e  remembered.  When  at  last 
called  out  by  the  voice  of  tiie  presiding  officer,  I  found 

60 


INITIAL    FEAR.  61 

my  way  to  tlie  eud  of  a  rude  bench  or  counter  that  ran 
partly  across  the  room,  leaned  upon  it,  shut  my  eyes,  and 
began  to  talk.  How  hoarse  and  hollow  the  sound  tliat 
followed!  All  that  was  uttered  was  instantly  forgotten 
by  the  speaker,  for  one  terrible  thought  dominated  every 
other — a  speech  was  being  made!  ]My  liead  whirled, 
every  nerve  tingled,  and  a  confused,  roaring  sound  filled 
my  cars,  'while  I  most  heartily  repented  of  allowing 
myself  to  be  persuaded  into  such  a  frightful  position. 
A  great  dread  stared  at  me  from  the  end  of  each  sen- 
tence— that  of  finding  nothing  more  to  say  and  being 
obliged  to  sit  down  amid  the  ridicule  of  neighbors  and 
school-fellows.  When  at  length  the  agony  was  over, 
and  opening  my  eyes,  I  dropped  into  a  seiit,  a  striking 
revulsion  of  feeling  occurred.  This  rose  to  the  height, 
of  joy  and  triumph  when  I  learned  that  "  the  speech " 
had  actually  been  ten  minutes  long.  It  was  a  grand 
achievement ! 

in  all  sober  earnest,  I  estimate  that  this  first  effort  was 
probably  the  most  profitable  of  my  life,  because  it  was 
a  beginning  in  the  right  direction.  Weeks  of  prepara- 
tion preceded  the  momentous  effort,  and  in  some  kind 
of  a  way  the  result  had  l)een  jjoured  uj^on  the  audience. 
From  that  time  the  writer  was  numbered  among  the 
village  debaters  and  shared  in  the  advantages  of  the 
village  Lyceum — a  capital  means  of  improvement.  Had 
the  first  extemporaneous  effort  been  made  later  in  life, 


62  EXTEMrORE     SPEECH. 

the  shrinking  and  terror  ^voulcl  probably  have  been  even 
greater. 

While  no  way  has  been  discovered  of  altogether  pre- 
venting the  initial  fear  that  attends  extemporaneous 
speech  by  the  unpracticed  orator,  yet  it  may  be  greatly 
lessened  and  more  rapid  and  perfect  control  of  it  obtained 
by  heeding  a  few  simple  suggestions.  Some  serviceable 
expedients  have  already  been  pointed  out,  and  will  here 
only  be  referred  to.  As  simple  a  plan  as  that  described 
in  the  last  chapter,  with  lengthened  meditation  on  each 
part,  will  give  the  mind  of  the  speaker  something  to  do 
aside  from  dwelling  upon  his  own  danger.  He  should 
also  prepare  far  more  matter  than  can  possibly  be  used 
— so  nmch  that  in  the  simplest  and  baldest  statement  it 
will  fill  a  respectable  period  of  time.  He  need  not  be 
careful  as  to  how  he  speaks,  or  in  how  many  forms  he 
repeats  the  same  idea.  Originality,  also,  may  safely  be 
neglected.  The  object  is  not  to  talk  especially  well,  or 
to  utter  that  Avhich  has  never  been  uttered  before,  but 
only  to  keep  on  talking  until  self-possession  and  the 
mastery  of  every  faculty  have  been  fully  restored.  This 
preparation  of  great  quantities  of  material  with  no  care 
as  to  the  graces  of  delivery  may  expose  the  speaker  in 
time  to  another  peril — that  of  being  tedious  and  weari- 
some ;  but  this  is  not  the  source  of  the  initial  fear  with 
which  we  are  now  dealing,  and  when  it  becomes  a  real 
evil  there  are  effectual  means  of  guarding  against  it. 


INITIAL    FEAR.  63 

A  further  direction  is  that  the  mode  of  introduction 
be  very  firmly  fixed  in  the  mind.  This  wonderfully 
calms  the  speaker.  He  knows  that  he  can  begin  even  if 
he  never  gets  any  further ;  and  by  the  time  the  intro- 
duction is  passed,  if  the  man  possesses  any  natural  apti- 
tude for  speech,  his  mind  will  in  all  ordinary  cases  have 
recovered  its  equilibrium,  and  be  ready  to  devise  and 
direct  everything  that  follows. 

The  plan  and  the  full  notes  which  have  been  made 
should  also  he  kept  within  easy  reach,  or  even  in  the 
hand — not  with  the  intention  of  using  them,  for  that  is 
the  very  thing  to  be  avoided,  but  that  the  speaker,  by 
knowing  that  they  can  be  referred  to  in  an  emergency, 
may  be  guarded  against  "  stage  fright."  He  may  al'so 
exercise  self-control  by  not  looking  at  them  unless  abso- 
lutely driven  to  it. 

The  object  of  first  efforts — even  for  the  orator  who  is 
great  in  other  modes  of  delivery — is  not  to  make  a  great 
or  admired  speech,  but  only  to  get  through  the  ordeal 
without  disgrace  or  failure.  Quality  must  be  sought 
later.  To  get  any  reasonable  quantity  of  speech  at  first, 
to  satisfy  yourself  that  you  can  both  think  and  talk 
when  on  your  feet,  is  achievement  enough. 

One  caution  may  be  offered  to  the  man  possessing  a 
good  written  style  which  the  boy  will  not  need.  Do 
not  make  your  preparation  so  minutely  or  verbally  that 
the  very  words  linger  in  your  memory.     If  you  do,  one 


CA  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

of  two  things  will  probably  happen :  either  you  will 
recite  a  memorized  speech,  which,  however  fine  in  itself,^ 
will  contribute  nothing  to  the  object  of  learning  to  speak 
extemporaneously,  or  the  fine  fragments  of  remembered 
diction  that  flood  in  your  mind  will  be  so  out  of  harmony 
with  the  words  spontaneously  evolved  as  to  produce  a 
continual  series  of  jars  and  discords  noticeable  to  every 
one,  and  to  none  more  painfully  than  to  yourself.  The 
writer  once  listened  to  a  speech  of  this  mixed  character, 
in  which  the  orator  \vould  soar  for  a  time  on  the  wings 
of  most  excellent  words,  and  then  drop  down  to  his  ordi- 
nary and  very  meagre  vocabulary.  So  frequent  and 
unexpected  were  these  transitions  that  the  orator's  pro- 
gress suggested  nothing  so  much  as  traveling  over  one 
of  those  western  corduroy  roads,  where  the  wheels  of  the 
carriage  first  rise  with  a  great  effort  on  top  of  a  log,  and 
then  plunge  into  fiithomless  depths  of  mud !  Rather 
than  such  jolting,  it  is  better  that  the  experimental 
s])eeches  should  never  rise  abo\'e  the  level  of  mere  talk, 
and  thus  maintain  a  uniform  progress.  In  due  time  all 
qualified  persons  can  lift  their  extemporaneous  words  as 
high  as  tlie  utmost  reach  of  the  pen.  But  first  must  be 
gained  the  power  of  standing  unprotected  by  a  paper  wall, 
face  to  face  with  an  audience  and  employing  every  faculty 
as  calmly  and  efficiently  as  in  the  study.  Practice  in 
talking  to  the  people  Avill  make  this  possible  and  easy, 
but  nothing  else  will. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Utility  of  DERATixa  Societies. 

Comparatively  little  attention  is  paid  to  the  direct 
cultivation  of  extemporaneous  oratory  in  schools  and 
cx)lleges.  Indirectly,  much  help  is  given  by  teaching 
many  things  which  go  to  furnish  the  orator  with  ideas 
and  words,  but  the  combination  of  these  into  that  noble 
effort  of  human  genius — a  speech — is  left  to  individual 
research  or  to  accident.  A  few  scho(^ls  of  oratory  have 
been  founded  which  give  a  large  and  probably  dispro- 
portionate share  of  attention  to  elocution  in  the  form  of 
stage  or  dramatic  reading;  but  even  the  best  of  these  are 
as  yet  but  entering  upon  their  real  work  (»f  cultivating 
thoroughly  the  power  of  persuasive  public  speeih.  AVlien 
each  college  shall  have  a  chair  of  extempore  speech, 
and  each  academy  shall  give  as  much  attention  to  unpre- 
meditated utterances  in  conversation  and  public  address 
as  is  now  bestowed  upon  Greek  or  Latin,  the  oratory  of 
pulpit,  bar,  platform,  and  legislature  will  be  of  a  vastly 
higher  type. 

Some  newspaper  critics  have  deprecated  teaching  the 
art  of  speech  on  the  ground  that  there  is  already  too 
much  public  talking.     This  view,  if  seriously  entertained, 

65 


66  EXTEMPOEE    SrEECH. 

is  very  narrow  and  misleading.  Not  more,  but  better 
speech — an  increase  of  quality,  rather  than  quantity — 
Avould  result  from  cultivation,  and  imjjroved  methods. 
And  it  may  also  be  argued  that  if  a  great  part  of  the 
work  of  life  is  found  in  convincing,  instructing,  and  per- 
suading our  fellows,  an  abundance  of  speech  is  absolutely 
required.  As  freedom  and  mental  activity  increase,  the 
only  practicable  modes  of  leading  and  governing  men, 
which  rest  upon  persuasive  speech,  will  be  more  urgently 
demanded.  In  a  state  where  the  will  of  one  man  is  law, 
political  speech  has  little  place ;  and  in  a  Church  where 
independent  thought  is  heresy  and  the  mass  of  the  people 
accept  unquestioningly  the  precise  form  of  faith  in  which 
they  were  born,  preaching  will  have  a  very  narrow  field. 
But  in  our  own  country  it  is  our  boast  that  we  determine 
every  subject  by  free  discussion  ;  and  it  is  clear  that  a 
man  who  can  take  no  part  in  the  oral  battles  that  are 
continually  waged  about  him  is  placed  at  a  great  disad- 
vantage. 

But  the  literary  societies  generally  connected  with 
schools  do  afford  very  valuable  help  in  acquiring  the  art 
of  oratory.  Not  only  their  formal  exercises,  but  their 
discussion  of  points  of  order  and  procedure,  and  the 
management  of  the  business  and  government  of  such 
societies,  call  out  talking  talent.  Debating  societies  or 
lyceums  give  the  same  kind  of  facilities  to  speakers 
outside  of  educational  halls.     A  spirited  debate  on  some 


UTILITY    OF    DEBATING    SOCIETIES.  67 

topic  not  above  the  comprehension  of  the  debaters 
affords  one  of  the  best  possible  means  of  acquiring  the 
prime  faculties  of  assurance  and  fluency.  In  sucli 
debates  the  question  is  chosen,  the  sides  assigned,  and 
ample  time  given  for  that  kind  of  preparation  which 
can  only  be  effectually  made  in  the  general  study  of  the 
subject.  There  is  no  great  temptation  to  write  a  speech 
for  a  coming  debate,  as  its  formal  sentences  would  fit 
poorly  into  the  line  of  avf^ument,  the  course  of  M'hich 
cannot  be  foreseen,  even  if  their  substance  should  not  he 
anticipated  by  a  speaker  on  the  same  side.  But  the 
more  general  knowledge  of  the  subject  in  its  entire  range 
that  can  be  acquired  the  better,  so  long  as  it  does  not 
overwhelm  the  speaker.  The  opening  speech  may 
indeed  be  planned  in  advance  Avitli  some  definiteness, 
but  all  others  will  be  colored  and  modified  by  the  situa- 
tion into  which  the  debate  has  been  drawn.  Each  par- 
ticipant is  under  a  strong  stimulus  to  do  his  best,  sure, 
if  successful,  of  warm  ap])r()val  l)y  his  colleagues  and 
sweet  triumph  over  his  opponents.  After  the  opening 
speech  each  contestant  will  have  the  time  his  predecessor 
is  speaking  for  arranging  arguments  and  preparing  an 
answer.  The  stimulus  of  contradiction  rouses  every 
faculty  to  the  highest  energy.  Each  argument  is  scru- 
tinized for  the  pui-pose  of  discovering  its  weak  point, 
and  nothing  will  pass  on  trust.  It  may  as  well  be 
acknowledged  that  the  g^adiatuiial  spirit,  though  in  a 


68  exte:mpore  speech. 

moflifiecl  form,  is  still  rife  in  the  civilized  world.  The 
''joy  of  conflict"  may  be  tasted  as  well  in  the  sharp 
encounters  of  an  earnest  debate  upon  some  topic  of 
ribsorbing  interest  as  on  the  battle-field.  A  society  which 
furnishes  its  members  continual  opportunity  for  speech, 
under  such  conditions  cannot  fail  to  be  a  powerful 
educator  in  the  direction  of  extemjjoraneous  speech.  In 
such  encounters,  the  freedom  that  belongs  to  this  kind  of 
address  is  n-ost  highly  appreciated,  and  the  mistaken 
consideration,^  of  dignity  and  propriety  which  so  often 
take  all  life  and  heart  from  speech  can  have  little 
weight.  Debates  have  indeed  been  occasionally  carried 
on  by  meaup  of  essays  in  place  of  speeches,  but  such 
-sncounters  have  been  tame  and  listless  aiiairs,  and  have 
soon  given  place  to  the  real  article.  Among  the  Ameri- 
can statesmen  Avho  have  taken  their  first  lessons  in  the  art 
which  paved  their  way  to  greatness  in  country  debating 
societies  may  be  reckoned  Henry  Clay,  Abraham  Lin- 
coln, James  A.  Garfield,  and  many  others  only  less  emi- 
nent. 

Enough  inducements,  we  trust,  have  been  set  forth  to 
lead  every  student  of  speech  to  find  or  make  an  oppor- 
tunity for  availing  himself  of  this  capital  means  of  cul- 
tivation. Let  him  enter  upon  the  work  of  debating, 
earnestly  resolving  (after  the  first  few  efforts)  to  do  the 
very  best  in  his  power.  Let  him  arrange  his  material 
carefully,  select  a  striking  mode  of  openmg  each  address, 


UTILITY    OF    DEBATING    SOCIETIES.  69 

and  strive  to  close  in  such  a  manner  as  to  leave  the  best 
effect  on  the  minds  of  his  hearers.  As  he  debates  for 
improvement  rather  than  for  innnediate  victory,  he  will, 
of  course,  despise  all  tricks  and  seek  to  win  fairly,  or — 
what  is  just  as  important  a  lesson — he  will  learn  to 
accept  defeat  gracefully. 

The  skeletons  of  two  speeches  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
same  question  are  here  presented  for  the  purpose  of 
showing  how  a  simple  plan  will  hold  to  the  proper  place 
all  the  thoughts  and  arguments  that  may  be  accumulated. 
The  same  form  of  outline  is  used  as  in  the  preceding 
chapter. 

Question. 
Would  the  annexation  of  Cuba  to  the  United  States  be 
beneficial  f 

Affiemative  ARGU]yrEXT. 
Introduction. — How  small  and  licnmied  in  by 
powerful   countries  the  I'nited   States   would 
have  been  if  no  annexations    had    cxcr   bccu 
made.    To  annex  Cuba  would  be  no  neir  ])oli(y. 
Dis(;ussiON.     Argument  First. — Favorable  loca- 
tion of  Cuba  and    commercial   value   to   tlu; 
United  States. 
Argumeni  Second. — The  great  riches  and  beauty 

of  the  Island,  which  make  it  very  desirable. 
Argument  Third. — Advantages  to  the  people  of 
Cuba  themselves,  in  behmging  to  a  great  and 
free  nation. 


70  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

CoNCiiUSiON. — All  previous  annexations  had  to 
encounter  strong  opposition  when  first  pro- 
posed, but  are  now  acknowledged  to  ha\e  been 
good  })olicy.  So,  if  Cuba  is  brought  under 
our  flag,  opposition  will  die  out  and  all  parties 
be  glad  of  the  result. 

Negative  Argument. 

Introduction. — Plausible  but  inconclusive  na- 
ture of  the  argument  advanced  on  tlie  other 
side.  Previous  annexations  may  not  have  been 
good,  though  opposition  ceased  when  it  could 
avail  nothing.  Even  if  all  former  annexations 
Avere  beneficial  this  might  not  be,  as  all  attend- 
ing circumstances  are  so  widely  different. 

Discussion.  Argument  First. — The  nation  has 
already  as  much  territory  as  can  be  well  gov- 
erned. An  increase  would  lead  to  grave  dan- 
gers. 

Argument  Second. — The  people  of  Cuba  are  dif- 
ferent in  language,  race,  and  religion  f^om  the 
majority  of  the  people  of  the  Unitc^l  States; 
have  different  customs,  and  are  unacquainted 
with  the  Morking  of  our  institutions.  They 
could  not  therefore  be  transformed  easily  into 
good  citizens. 

Conclusion. — Dreadful  wars  and  calamities 
have  arisen  in  all  ages  and  all  parts  of  the 
world  from  greediness  in  absorbing  territory — 
"earth  hunger,"  as  the  Germans  call  it.  To 
annex  Cuba  would  involve  present  and  future 
danger. 


PART  II. 


Preparation  of  the  Speaker, 


CHAPTER  I. 

Unfortunates   who    Never    can    Extemporize. 

Persons  are  met  every  day  who  declare  tlieir  beliei"  in 
extempore  speech — for  others — hut  who  are  fully  jx-r- 
suaded  that  the  possibility  of  ever  becoming  elective 
speakers  has  been  placal  by  nature  forever  beyond  their 
own  reach.  In  some  rases  this  ]>ersuasion  is  well 
founded.  There  are  people  who  cannot  by  any  possible 
effort  learn  to  speak  well  witliout  manuscript  or  memor- 
ized words.  But  too  nuich  nuist  not  be  made  of  this 
acknowledgment.  The  number  of  these  unfortunates  is 
smaller  than  is  usually  believed.  It  is  also  noticeable  that 
j)ersons  of  undoubted  talent  are  often  most  ready  to  despair 
of  their  own  future  as  speakers,  while  others,  whose  defects 
are  patent  to  all  their  neighbors,  have  no  fears  whatever. 

The  objwtof  this  chapter  is  to  point  out  the  character 
of  the  few  insuperable  disqualifications  for  extem])ore 
speech, and  supply  rational  tests  by  wliicii  their  presence 
in  any  given  ease  may  be  determined.  This  is  a  task  of 
no  small  difficulty  and  delicacy;  yet  it  is  necessary.  To 
encourage  any  person  to  strive  for  that  which  is  forever 
placed  out  of  his  reach  is  cruel — almost  criminal.  Jt  is 
equally  wrong  to  discourage  those  who  only  need  perse- 
vering effort  in  order  to  achieve  full  success. 


74  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

With  regard  to  tlic  faculty  of  eloquence,  mankind  may 
be  divided  into  three  classes.  Persons  in  the  first  class 
have  the  oratorical  temperament  so  fully  developed  that 
they  will  speak  well  and  flilly  succeed  in  whatever  motle 
they  may  adopt,  or,  indeed,  without  consciously  adoj^ting 
any  method  at  all.  They  have  such  a  union  of  the 
power  of  expression  and  of  the  impulse  toward  it,  that 
they  speak  as  naturally  and  as  surely  as  the  nightingale 
sings.  The  existence  of  extraordinary  native  genius 
must  be  acknowledged  as  a  fact  in  every  department  of 
human  effort.  But  it  by  no  means  follows  that  these 
wonderfully  gifted  beings  will  rise  to  the  highest  emi- 
nence in  their  own  spheres.  They  ccitaiuly  will  not 
unless  they  add  diligent  effort  and  careful  cultivation  to 
their  natural  powers.  Some  of  the  greatest  orators  have 
not  belonged  to  this  class,  bnt  to  that  next  described. 
They  would  never  have  been  heard  of — \\ould  probably 
never  have  addressed  an  audience  at  all — if  they  had  not 
forced  their  way  upward  against  adverse  criticism,  and 
oflen  against  their  own  feeling  and  judgment,  impelled 
only  by  a  sense  of  duty  or  by  enthusiastic  loyalty  to 
some  great  cause. 

The  second  class  is  far  larger  than  either  of  the  others. 
The  majority  of  people  have  not  so  great  talents  for 
speech  as  to  drive  them  of  necessity  into  the  oratorical 
field.  Neither  are  they  absolutely  incapable  of  true 
speech.     If  they  will  labor  for  success  in  oratory,  as  a 


UNFORTUNATES.  75 

photogra])li('r  or  a  sculptor  labors  to  master  his  art,  they 
will  gain  it  ;  otherwise,  they  will  always  he  slow  and 
embarrassed  in  utterance  and   be  glad  to  lind  rctiigc  in 
niannscript  or  in  coni])lcte  silence.     It  is  often  anuising 
to  note  a  person  of  this  ( lass  who  has  never  learnal  how 
to  be  eloquent,  but  mIio  is  full  of  itleas  that  seek  expres- 
sion, using  another  person  who  is  a  mere  talking  machine 
as  a  mouthpiece !     There   is  nothing  wrong   in  such  a 
division  of  labor,  but   the   latter  secures  all   the  glory, 
although  he  runs  considerable  risk,  as  his  stock  of  bor- 
rowed information  cannot  be  replenished  at  will.     The 
writer  knew  two  young  men,  members  of  a  certain  literary 
societv,  who  sustained  this  relation  to  each  otlu-r.     They 
usuall\-  sat   togethei',  and  w  hilc  a  dcbaH'  was  in  progress 
the  wiser  of  the  two  would  whisper  the  other  what  line 
of  argument  to  ibllow  and  wl»at  illustrations  to  employ, 
and  at  the  j)i'(»p(  r  tinu'  the  latter  would  ^'})ring  to  his 
I'eet  with  the  utmost   conlidcnce,  and   blaze  forth  in  bor- 
rowed chxpicncc.      In  time,  hctwevcr,  the  silent  man  tired 
of  his  j)art  and  took  the  j)ains  to  learn  the  art  ol"  speech 
for  himself.     A  great  profusion  of  language  is  not   the 
first  need  of  an  orator,     (^uite  as  often  as  otherwise  it 
])roves  a  hindi'ance  u'ld  a  snare.     The  nuMnb^Ts  ol"  this 
large  class  have  every  encouragement  to  work  diligently, 
and  are  sure  of  ultimate  rcAvard. 

But  the  remaining  class  can  no  more  learn  to  speak 
well,  than  a  blind  man  can  learn  to  paint,  or  a  dumb  man 


76  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

to  slug.  How  shall  such  porsmis  bo  made  acquainted 
with  their  condition,  and  thus  save  themselves  years  of 
painful  antl  fruitless  toil  ?  Mathematical  accuracy  of 
determination  is  not  j)ractical)le,  but  any  j)erson  of  candor 
and  ordinary  juduinent  may  api'ly  a  few  simple  tests 
wliicli  will  not  allow  wide  room  for  error. 

A  dumb  man  cannot  be  an  orator.     The  physical  im- 
pediment is  here  absolute  and   rec()<;nize(l   by  all.     But 
mere  slowness  and  defects  of  s})eech,  thougli    hurtful, 
are  not  necessarily  fatal.     Stannuering  may  in  almost 
every  case  be  curcHl,  and  many  stammerers  have  made  gooil 
speakers.     A  weak  voice  is  also  a  misfortune ;  but  it  may 
be  greatly  strengthened,  and  by  cultivation  and  judicious 
husbanding  become  equal  to  every  purpose.     A  feeble 
voice  will  accomplish  much  more  in  extemporizing  than 
in  reading  a  manuscript.     Some  most  eloquent  men  have 
reached  their  stations  in  spite  of  vocal  defects.     John 
Randolph,  Robert  Hall,  and  Bishop  Simpson  are  cases 
in  point.     After  all  the  examples  that  have  been  afibrded 
of  the  power  of  cultivating  the  voice,  supplemented  in' 
the  elfects  of  using  it  in  a  natural  manner,  no  man 
who  can  carry  on  an  ordinary  parlor  conversation  need 
say,  "My  voice  is  so  weak  that  I  can  never  be  a  jwblic 
speaker."     He  may  rec^uire  training  in  the  A\ays  pointed 
out  hereafter ;  but  with  proper  effort  he  can  reasonably 
expect  a  good  degree  of  success.     The  writer  here  speaks 
from  experience.     His  voice  was  so  feeble  that  readmg  a 


TJNFOETUXATES.  77 

single  paragraph  aloud  at  .school  wa.s  ditticiilt ;  and  when 
afterward  the  study  of  law  wa.s  contemplated,  many 
friends  dissuaded  on  thcgi'ound  that  lack  of"  voice  forhade 
all  hope  of  success  at  the  bar.  But  special  drill  and  the 
healthful  practice  of  extemporaneous  speech  have  wrought 
such  an  improvement  that  now  no  great  eifort  is  rccpiired 
to  make  several  thousand  persons  in  the  open  air  hejir 
cvei'V  \\()i"d  of  a  long  address. 

Some  persons  are  ready  to  assign  their  own  timidity 
as  an  excuse  for  never  attempting  j)ublic  speech.  In 
ninety-nine  cases  out  of  a  hundreil  this  is  no  real  dis- 
qualification. If  the  timidity,  indeed,  he  so  great  that 
the  person  loill  not  risk  speech,  that  decides  tiie  (piestion 
against  him,  Itut  in  such  a  case  he  should  say,  '*  I  will 
not,"  rather  than  "  1  cannot."  Fear  is  more  under  the 
government  of  the  will  than  we  are  apt  io  imagine. 
Even  when  excessive,  the  right  kind  of  drill  ^yill  go  far 
toward  overcoming  it.  Great  cowards  often  make  good 
soldiers  when  so  well  disciplined  that  they  know  just 
what  to  do,  and  from  the  force  of  habit  cannot  neglect 
it,  although  their  attention  may  be  wholly  absorbed  in 
•  something  else.  But  it  is  idle  to  disguise  that  the  ex- 
tempore speaker  will  always  run  some  risk  of  liiihirc 
Probably  no  great  orator  ever  escaped  a  mortifving,  if" 
not  disastrous,  overthrow  at  some  period  of  his  career. 
Sheridan  and  Lord  Beaconsfield  each  began  their  great 
achievements  in  the  English  House  of  Commons  by  a 


78  EXTEMPOKE   SPEECH. 

complete  l>i-eakdown.  But  thev  also  had  the  courage  to 
trv  auaiu  and  to  keep  trving  until  success  c-anie.  Mere 
natural  shrinking  from  such  trials  is  no  dis(|ualiticatio:i, 
ii'  when  the  mind  is  fully  nunle  u\)  as  ti»  the  best  course- 
there  is  sutlieient  courage  and  will-power  to  go  forward. 
Indeed,  a  certain  deg-ree  of  fear  belongs  tt)  the  oratorical 
temperament.  A  man  who  can  at  the  first  trial  calmly 
face  an  expectant  audience,  probably  lacks  some  of  the 
sensitiveness  which  is  one  of  the  qualifications  of  the 
powerful  and  effective  speaker.  The  ))idy  real  dis([uali- 
fication,  therefore,  in  the  direction  of  timidity,  is  such  a 
degree  of  fear  as  will  make  the  speaker  turn  away  from 
all  the  prizes  of  oratory,  unwilling  to  encounter  the 
hardship  and  the  struggle  by  which  tliey  may  be  won. 

But  is  the  position  of  the  reader  or  dtx-laimer  l^etter  in 
this  particular  than  that  of  the  true  speaker?  How 
difficult  it  is  to  read  well  before  an  audience!  Even 
elocutionists  who  devote  years  of  practice  to  a  narro^v 
range  of  selections  find  their  efforts  very  unequal. 
They  can  never  be  sure  of  reaching  the  full  measure  of 
former  successes.  To  read  one's  own  composition,  and 
to  feel  responsible  for  the  words  and  the  matter,  as  Avell 
as  for  the  delivery,  greatly  intensifies  the  fear  of  ftiliing 
below  reasonable  expectations.  The  writer  has  observed 
many  manuscript  readers,  and  can  testifv  that  thev  are 
usually  as  much  embarra-scd  when  the  hour  of  trial 
arrives  a^  off-hand  speakers.     In  the  latter  mode  of 


UXFORTUXATES.  79 

delivery  the  voice  is  so  much  more  free  and  varied/  and 
the  mind  is  apt  to  lie  removed  so  much  more  from  self, 
tliat  the  balance  of  arlvantages  in  .the  matter  of  embar- 
rassment seems  to  be  decidedly  in  favor  of  extemporiz- 
ing. 

Tlie  perils  of  the  reciter  are  still  more  formidable. 
The  reader  seldom  grows  so  much  embarrassed  as  to  be 
unable  to  see  the  words  l^efore  him.  If  he  loses  his 
place  he  can  begin  somewhere  else,  and  stumble  on  m 
some  kind  of  way.  But  verbal  memory,  when  weighted 
with  the  burden  of  a  wliole  discoui'se  and  clouded  by  em- 
barrassment, easily  give  way  altogether.  A  slight  physi- 
cal ailment  may  jjroduce  the  same  result.  When  memory 
thus  fails,  scarcely  any  escape  is  possible  to  one  accus- 
tomed to  depend  upon  it.  Many  speakers  will  recollect 
occasions  on  which  they  wore  unable  to  re^^ll  short 
memorized  passages,  but  could  easily  supply  extempor- 
ized words  and  thus  follow  the  line  of  discourse  pre- 
vioiLsly  marked  out  without  any  mortifying  confession  of 
failure.  It  will  therefore  be  a  gain  to  one  who  aspires 
to  public  speech  of  any  kind  to  settle  it  finally  that 
no  other  mode  of  utterance  can  diminish  those  risks 
which  so  terrify  the  extempore  speaker. 

A  third  disqualification  is  the  want  of  ordinary  men- 
tal poAver.  Great  mental  endowments  may  not  l>e  neces- 
sary. In  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  W(ird,  the  orator 
need  not  be  a  genius.     His  education  may  l)e  very  defec- 


80  EXTEMPOEE    SPEECH. 

tive^  his  range  of  information  narrow,  and  his  general 
powers  of  mind  not  above  tlie  average.     But  if  he  is  to 

stand  before  his  fellows  as  a  guide  and   instructor a 

position  assumed  to  some  degree  by  every  speaker he 

should  not  be  inferior  in  a  marked  degree  to  his  hearers 
at  least  in  those  things  wdiich  relate  to  the  subjects  he 
discusses.  A  mediocre  man  who  has  had  special  training 
in  some  one  direction,  and  adds  native  vigor  of  mind, 
may  be  a  very  instructive  and  entertaining  speaker  in  his 
own  field.  But  if  through  mental  weakness  he  talks  so 
foolishly  on  any  topic  that  his  want  of  wisdom  is 
apparent  to  all  his  hearers,  he  might  better  close  his 
lips ;  and  if  his  mental  faculties  are  so  defective  or  badly 
balanced  that  he  cannot  master  the  ordinary  subjects 
upon  which  he  will  be  required  to  speak  if  he  speaks  at 
all,  he  should  abandon  all  thought  of  oratory. 

This  discjualification  is  the  most  difficult  for  a  man  to 
determine  in  himself  A  \\eak  voice,  overmastering 
fear,  infirm  health,  can  all  be  recognized  with  an 
approach  to  certainty ;  but  who  can  be  bold  enough  to 
settle  the  question  whether  his  mind  is  sufficiently  strong 
to  profitably  address  his  fellows  ?  A  few  general  suo-- 
gestions  presented  in  the  form  of  questions  are  all  that 
will  be  useful  in  making  this  decision.  Do  you  find  it 
possible  to  study  a  subject  until  all  sides  of  it  are  clearly 
visible  in  their  mutual  relations?  Do  the  subjects  with 
which   you   are  most  familiarly  acquainted  still  seem 


UNFORTUNATES.  81 

shadowy  and  confused  in  your  own  mind?  When  you 
try  to  tell  a  friend  about  any  passing  event,  do  you  use 
words  so  bunglingly  as  to  give  him  no  clear  conception 
of  the  matter?  A  speaker  must  be  able  to  hold  a  sub- 
ject firmly  in  his  mind,  and  to  make  such  a  })rcsentation 
of  it  to  others  that  they  also  may  understand  it. 

Yet  in  answering  these;  questions  let  it  be  remembered 
that  many  persons,  exceedingly  self-distrustful,  have  put 
forth  their  efforts  all  the  more  diligently  on  that  account, 
and  have  thus  achieved  brilliant  success. 

The  rule  is  a  safe  one,  that  a  man  whose  mind  fur- 
nishes him  with  important  ideas,  and  with  the  desire  to 
oommunicate  them,  may  speak  successfully.  Mental 
powers  may  be  greatly  improved  and  strengthened,  and 
no  one  who  does  not  stand  far  down  the  scale  in  natu- 
ral endowment,  or  is  willing  to  use  the  means  at  his 
disposal  diligently,  need  hesitate  to  make  an  attempt 
which  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  full  of  profit,  even  when  it 
does  not  command  perfect  success.  We  will  not  now 
enter  upon  a  consideration  of  the  modes  by  which  the 
general  strength  of  the  mind  may  be  augmented  and  its 
stores  increasal,  for  oratory  busies  itself  with  the  method 
of  communication  rather  than  with  the  illimitable  field 
of  general  cultivation. 

Any  mortal  disease,  or  such  physical  infirmity  as  pre- 
vents the  exercise  of  bodily  and  mental  powers,  will  be 
found  to  interfere  as  materially  with  oratory  as  with 


32  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

other  forms  of  labor.  For  a  man  who  is  far  advancetl 
in  consumption  to  begin  a  course  of  preparatory  training 
with  a  view  to  becoming  an  orator,  would  be  an  evident 
waste  of  eifort.  If  he  has  anything  to  say  which  the 
world  ought  to  know,  he  should  speak  it  out  at  once  in 
the  best  form  that  his  present  ability  allows,  or  commit 
the  task  to  others.  This  seems  so  self-evident  that  it 
should  be  understood  without  statement ;  but  the  oppo- 
site idea  has  attained  some  degree  of  currency.  It  is 
sometimes  said  of  an  individual,  "  Poor  fellow,  his  health 
is  so  broken  that  he  can  never  make  a  living  by  any 
hard  work ;  it  would  be  well  for  him  to  turn  his  attention 
to  some  easy  profession,  where  he  Avould  have  nothing 
to  do  but  speak."  There  is  one  form  of  truth  concealed 
in  this  hurtful  error.  Natural  speech  does  furnish 
healthful  exercise  for  the  vocal  organs,  which  in  their 
turn  are  closely  connected  with  the  most  vital  parts  of 
the  human  body.  In  some  cases  serious  disease  has  been 
cured  by  the  habit  of  public  speech.  But  these  cases  are 
exceptional,  and  do  not  in  the  least  invalidate  the  prin- 
ciple here  laid  down,  which  is,  that  disease,  so  far  as  it 
enfeebles  the  body,  operates  as  a  direct  disqualification 
for  effective  speech ;  and  if  the  disease  be  severe  and 
permanent  the  disqualification  is  total.  It  must  also  be 
remembered  that  some  forms  of  disease  are  rendered 
worse  by  the  effort  and  excitement  inseparable  from 
public  address.     Physicians  usually  forbid  the  healtliful 


UNFORTUNATES.  83 

exercise  of  surf-bathing  to  persons  afflicted  with  heart 
disease.  But  the  intellectual  waves  of  a  heated  discus- 
sion buffet  no  less  fiercely  than  the  ocean  surf,  and  to  be 
met  successfully  requires  a  steady  arm  and  a  strong 
heart.  Even  in  the  calmest  and  most  passionless  dis- 
course it  is  scarcely  possible  to  avoid  having  the  pulse 
quickened,  and  all  tlie  elements  of  mental  and  physical 
endurance  severely  tested.  The  star  of  a  most  eloquent 
man  suddenly  faded  a  few  years  ago  while  he  was  still 
in  middle  life,  because  he  became  too  feeble  to  put  forth 
oratorical  force.  He  continued  to  speak  for  a  few  years, 
but  scores  only  listened  to  him  where  himdreds  and  thou- 
sands had  hung  spell-bound  on  his  utterances  before  his 
physical  strength  declined. 

But  it  is  cheering  to  remember  that  especially  in  youth 
ill-heidth  may  often  be  entirely  removed.  The  great 
majority  of  young  people  need  only  the  careful  observ- 
ance of  healthy  conditions  in  order  to  make  their  bodies 
efficient  instruments  for  the  expression  of  all  the  fires  of 
eloquence  that  may  be  enkindled  in  their  souls. 

One  of  the  principal  marks  by  which  man  is  dis- 
tinguished from  the  lower  animals  is  the  invention  and 
use  of  articulate  language.  By  it,  the  dress  for  our  icieas 
is  formed,  and  it  is  scarcely  possible  even  to  meditate 
without  mentally  using  words.  During  all  our  waking 
moments,  even  the  most  idle,  a  stream  of  language  is 
running  ceaselessly  through  our  miuds.     The  more  com- 


84  EXTEMPOKE    SPEECH. 

pletely  the  form  of  language  is  spontaneously  assumed 
by  the  thought-current,  the  easier  it  becomes  to  open  the 
lips  and  let  it  gush  forth  in  words.  With  most  persons 
unspoken  meditations  are  very  fragmentary  and  obscure 
— mere  snatches  begun  and  broken  off  by  passing  im- 
pulses or  impressions.  An  extemporaneous  speaker 
must  be  able  to  control  his  thoughts  and  hold  them  to  a 
predetermined  path ;  and  if  he  also  accustoms  himself  to 
force  them  into  a  full  dress  of  language,  the  habit  will 
greatly  lessen  conscious  effort  in  the  moment  of  speech. 
But  however  this  is,  the  power  of  wielding  the  resources 
of  his  mother  tongue  is  absolutely  essential  to  the  orator. 
A  great  and  incurable  deficiency  in  this  respect  is  flital. 
There  are  examples  of  almost  wordless  men,  Avho,  though 
suffering  no  deprivation  of  any  of  the  physical  organs 
of  speech,  have  yet  been  so  deficient  in  language-power 
that  they  could  not  employ  it  as  the  medium  of 
ordinary  communication.  Such  a  man — an  Illinois 
farmer — well  knowm  to  the  writer,  could  not  find  Avords 
to  make  an  ordinary  statement  without  long  and  embar- 
rassing pauses.  Tlie  names  of  his  nearest  neighbors 
were  usually  forgotten,  so  that  he  required  continual 
prompting  in  conversation.  He  was  not  below  the 
average  of  his  neighbors  either  in  education  or  intelli- 
gence, but  was  simply  almost  without  the  faculty  of 
language.  This  deficiency  in  a  less  marked  degree  is  not 
uncommon.     No  amount  of  training?  would  ever  have 


UNFORTUNATES.  85 

converted  this  farmer  into  an  orator.  Had  he  attemptetl 
to  discuss  the  most  familiar  topic  his  beggarly  array  of 
words  would  have  been  more  forlorn  than  Fal staff's 
recruits.  Another  example  that  may  be  cited  was  in 
one  sense  still  more  instructive — a  preacher  whose  good- 
ness was  acknowledged  by  all  who  knew  him,  a  man  of 
solid  acquirements  and  of  great  diligence  and  energy. 
But  his  long  and  embarrassed  pauses,  together  with  his 
struggles  to  get  words  of  some  kind  to  express  his  mean- 
ing, constituted  a  trial  to  his^,  hearers  so  great  that  no 
congregation  would  long  endure  his  ministry. 

It  is  possible  that  such  ])ersous  would  gain  some  relief 
by  writing  and  reading  their  discourses.  Probably  they 
I'ould  not  memorize  at  all.  Their  reading,  however, 
would  most  likely  be  marked  by  mauy  of  the  same 
defects  as  their  spoken  utterances. 

Many  of  the  persons  who  accuse  theuiselves  of  a  lack 
of  words  mistake  the  nature  of  their  difficulty.  It  is 
easy  to  bring  the  matter  to  a  decisive  test.  If  you  are 
really  very  deficient  in  the  faculty  of  language,  you  cannot 
tell  an  ordinary  story,  with  the  details  of  which  you  are 
perfectly  acquainted,  in  a  prompt  and  intelligent  manner. 
Try  the  experiment.  Read  over  two  or  three  times  a 
newspaper  account  of  a  wreck,  a  murder,  or  some  other 
common  occurrence ;  then  lay  down  the  paper  and  in 
your  own  way  tell  your  friend  what  has  happened.  If 
you  can  do  this  easily,  you  need  never  complain  of  the 


86  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

lack  of  words.  Equal  familiarity  with  any  other  subject 
will  j)roduce  the  same  resuhs.  Neither  the  preaclier  nor 
the  farmer  referred  to  could  have  successfully  passed 
this  test.  The  preacher  would  have  told  the  story  badly, 
and  in  an  incredibly  long  space  of  time;  the  farmer  would 
not  have  told  it  at  all. 

We  have  now  considered  the  most  serious  disqualifica- 
tions for  the  orator's  vocation.  Many  things  which  are 
constantly  assigned  by  candidates  as  the  reasons  for  con- 
fining themselves  to  the  use  of  manuscript  in  public 
address  have  not  been  included,  for  most  of  these,  as 
will  appear  in  a  subsequent  chapter,  are  susceptible  of 
<}asy  remedy.  Here  we  have  only  mentioned  those 
which  cannot  be  cured.  If  a  man  concludes,  after  due 
trial  and  consultation,  that  these  defects,  or  any  part  of 
them,  prevail  in  his  own  case,  it  will  l)e  prudent  for  him 
to  select  some  other  life-work  to  which  he  is  better 
adapted  than  he  can  ever  hope  to  be  for  public  speaking. 

We  sum  up  the  following  disqualifications  for  oratory : 
incurable  defects  of  voice,  extreme  timidity,  feebleness 
of  mind,  certain  forms  of  bodily  disease,  and  great  de- 
ficiency in  the  faculty  of  language. 


CHAPTER   II. 

Thought  and  Emotion. 

Two  kinds  of  preparation  contribntc  to  the  production 
of  eloquence.  One  is  the  preparation  of  the  speaker, 
tlie  other  of  the  speech.  The  first  is  fully  as  important 
as  the  second.  In  ordinary  cases  both  are  indispensable. 
Some  "  born  orators  "  speak  well  without  ap|)eariug  to 
pay  any  attention  to  the  hnprovement  of  tlieii-  faculties. 
Others  are  occasionally  ekxpient  on  a  topic  without 
special  preparation.  Yet  these  cases  when  closely  ex- 
amined will  be  found  apparent  rather  than  real  excep- 
tions to  the  rule  above  stated.  The  man  who  seems 
never  to  have  cultivated  the  power  of  speech,  and  is  yet 
able  to  blaze  into  fervid  eloquence  at  will,  has  usually 
concealed  his  preparation  or  carried  it  on  in  such  uncom- 
mon methods  that  they  have  not  been  recognized  as 
preparations.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man  who  speaks 
well  without  a  moment's  warning  can  do  so  only  when 
the  subject  is  thoroughly  familiar  to  him.  A  ready  and 
self-possessed  speaker  may  grasp  thoughts  which  have 
been  long  maturing  in  his  mind,  and  give  them  forth  to 
an  audience  in  obedience  to  an  unexpected  sunniions,  but 
if  he  is  called  upon  M'hen  he  knows  nothing  whatever  of 
his  subject,  failure  is  inevitable,  though  he  may  possibly 

87 


88  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

-veil  it  more  or  less  in  a  stream  of  i)latitudes.  Ask  a 
man  at  a  moment's  warning  to  give  an  astronomical 
lecture.  If  he  is  perfectly  familiar  Mitli  the  subject  in 
general,  and  is  also  a  practical  orator,  he  may  succeed 
well  without  preparing  a  special  speech.  But  if  he  is 
ignorant  of  Astronomy,  what  kind  of  an  address  can  he 
make?  If  he  is  the  most  eloquent  man  in  the  nation 
that  faculty  will  avail  him  nothing,  for  he  cannot  extem- 
porize the  names  of  the  planets,  the  laws  which  govern 
their  motions,  or  any  of  the  facts  out  of  which  his  lecture 
must  be  woven.  Precisely  the  same  necessity  of  adequate 
information  exists  in  every  other  field  of  intelligence. 
The  ignorant  man  cannot  possibly  toll  that  wliich  he  does 
not  know,  although  he  may  make  a  great  show  of  knoM'l- 
edge  out  of  small  material;  but  even  to  do  that  with 
certainty  requires  careful  premeditation  and  arrange- 
ment. 

In  this  and  following  chapters  we  wish  to  treat  of 
.the  kind  of  cultivation  which  makes  a  man  ready  to 
speak.  The  field  is  here  very  wide  and  some  general 
considerations  must  be  introduced,  but  we  hope  also  to 
give  valuable  practical  directions,  especially  to  those 
who  are  yet  at  the  beginning  of  their  career. 

In  considering  man  as  a  speaker,  we  may  classify  his 
faculties  into  two  broad  divisions ;  those  which  furnish 
the  materials  of  communication  with  his  fellows;  and 
those  which  fiirnish  the  means  of  such  cx^mmunication. 


THOUGHT    AND    EMOTION.  89 

The  first  class  gives  rise  to  thoughts  and  emotions  in 
man's  own  breast ;  the  second  enables  him  to  arouse 
similar  thoughts  and  emotions  in  the  breasts  of  others. 
Our  course,  therefore,  will  be  to  consider,  first,  tiioiight 
and  emotion,  and  afterward  those  powers  of  body  and 
mind  by  which  wc  express,  that  is,  p7-ess  out  from  our- 
selves toward  the  receptive  faculties  of  our  fellow  beings. 

Thought,  in  the  broad  sense  here  given,  embraces 
the  knowledge  of  all  facts,  and  all  the  reasoning  that  may 
be  based  upon  those  facts.  Emotion  is  the  mental  feeling 
or  response  to  knowledge,  and  comprises  love,  hate,  joy, 
fear,  sorrow,  and  hope.  These  two  elements  are  the 
broad  basis  of  all  eloquence.  Keen,  profound,  far-reach- 
ing thought — in  other  words,  thought  raised  to  its 
highest  terms — and  quick,  sensitive,  powerful  emotion, 
are  necessary  to  the  highest  eloquence.  Compared  with 
them,  mere  verbal  fluency  is  less  than  dust  in  the 
balance.  But  such  a  combination — the  highest  degree 
of  both  thought  and  emotion — is  rare,  and  many  (hgrees 
less  than  the  highest  of  either  is  available  for  genuine 
eloquence.  To  increase  either  or  both,  if  it  can  be 
done  without  any  corresponding  sacrifice,  is  to  increase 
eloquence  in  precisely  the  same  proportion. 

Education  in  the  popular  sense  is  the  cultixatiou  of 
thought  with  the  added  faculty  of  language.  ]>ut  we 
prefer  to  consider  the  latter  power  separately  a.s  one 
aniono-  the  means  of  communicatiiiii;  thouoht. 


90  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

How^  then,  shall  thought-power  be  increased  ?  There 
is  no  royal  road.  Every  one  of  the  faculties  by  which 
knowledge  is  accumulated  and  arranged  or  digested  into 
new  forms  grows  stronger  by  being  employed  upon  its 
own  appropriate  objects.  Exercise  is  then  the  means  by 
which  the  material  of  knowledge  is  gathered,  and  all 
faculties  strengthened  for  future  gathering.  Each  fact 
gained  adds  to  the  treasury  of  thought,  A  broad  and 
liberal  education  is  of  exceeding  advantage.  This  may 
or  may  not  be  of  the  schools.  Indeed,  they  too  often 
substitute  a  knowledge  of  words  for  a  knowledge  of 
things.  That  fault  is  very  serious  to  the  orator,  for  the 
only  way  by  which  even  language  can  be  eifectively 
taught,  is  by  giving  terms  to  objects,  the  nature  of 
which  has  been  previously  learned. 

But  many  persons  need  to  speak  who  cannot  obtain  an 
education  in  the  usual  sense  of  the  words — that  is, 
college  or  seminary  training.  Must  they  keep  their  lips 
forever  closed  on  that  account  ?     By  no  means. 

A  thousand  examples,  sonie  of  them  the  most  eminent 
speakers  the  world  has  jjroduced,  encourage  them  to 
hope.  Let  such  persons  learn  all  they  can.  Wide, 
w^eil-selccted,  and  systematic  reading  will  do  wonders  in 
supplying  the  necessary  thought-material.  Every  book 
of  history,  biography,  travels,  popular  science,  wdiich  is 
carefully  read,  and  its  contents  fixed  in  the  mind,  will 
be  available  for  the  purposes  of  oratory.     Here  a  word 


THOUGHT    AND    EMOTION.  91 

of  advice  may  be  offered,  Mhich,  if  heeded,  will  be  Avortli 
many  months  of  technical  edncatiou  at  the  best  colleges 
in  the  land  ;  it  is  this :  have  always  at  hand  some  work 
that  in  its  oNvn  spliere  possesses  real  and  ])C'rmanent 
merit,  and  read  it  (hiily  until  completed.  If  notes  are 
made  of  its  contents,  and  the  book  itself  kept  on  hand 
for  reference,  so  much  tlie  better.  If  some  friend  can  be 
found  who  will  hear  you  relate  in  your  own  words  what 
you  have  read,  this  also  will  be  of  great  value.  Many 
})ersons,  especially  in  our  own  country,  spend  time  enough 
in  reading  the  minute  details  of  the  daily  papers  to  make 
them  thoroughly  acquainted  in  ten  years  with  forty  vol- 
umes of  the  most  useful  books  in  the  world.  Think  of 
it!  This  number  may  include  nearly  all  the  literary 
masterpieces.  Which  ukrIc  <»1'  s[)ending  the  time  will 
})r()duce  the  best  results?  One  news])ai)('r  read  daily 
would  amount  to  more  than  three  hundred  in  a  year,  and 
allowing  each  pa])er  to  be  equal  to  ten  ordinary  book 
pages,  the  result  would  be  three  thousand  ])ages  annually, 
or  six  volumes  of  five  hundred  pages  eaeli.  1  n  ten  years 
this  would  reach  ,s'/.i;^7/ volumes !  This  nunil)er,  com- 
prising the  world's  best  books  in  history,  ])oetry,  science, 
and  general  literature,  might  be  read  slowly,  with  medi- 
tation and  diligent  note-taking,  by  the  most  Inisy  man 
who  was  willing  to  employ  his  leisure  in  that  Avay. 
Libraries  and  books  are  now  brought  within  the  reach 
of  all,  and  the  mass  of  what  man  knows  can  be  learned 


92  EXTENrPORE   SPEECH. 

in  outline  by  any  student  who  thirsts  for  knowleilge 
\Yhile  thus  engaged  the  student  is  on  the  direct  road 
toward  oratorical  efficiency,  though  such  knowledge  will 
not  in  itsc^lf  constitute  eloquence.  It  is  ])ut  one  of  its 
elements.  Neither  will  the  speaker  have  to  wait  until 
any  definite  quantity  of  reading  has  been  accomplished 
before  it  becomes  serviceable  to  him.  All  that  he  learns 
will  be  immediately  available,  and,  Avith  proper  effort, 
the  facility  of  speech  and  the  material  for  speaking  will 
keep  pace  with  each  other. 

But  personal  observation  of  life  and  nature  are  jusl 
as  necessary  as  reading.  The  world  of  books  is  very 
extensive,  but  it  yields  its  treasures  only  to  persons  Avho 
bring  to  its  study  some  inde]>endent  knowledge  of  their 
own.  We  cannot  hojxUo  add  nnich  to  the  world's  stock 
of  knowledge  by  what  M^e  see  with  our  o^vn  eyes,  but 
what  we  do  see  and  hear  A\ill  interpret  for  us  what  we 
learn  from  the  far  Avider  world  of  books.  Gibbon  tells 
us  that  his  militia  service,  though  of  no  great  advan- 
tage in  itself,  was  afterward  very  useful  to  the  historian 
of  the  Eoraan  Empire.  AVHiat  we  behold  of  the  land- 
scape around  us  lays  the  foundation  for  understanding 
what  poets  and  travelers  tell  us  of  otlier  landscapes  we 
may  never  see.  Book  kno^vledge  will  become  real  and 
vivid  just  in  proportion  as  it  is  brought  into  comparison 
Avith  the  observation  of  our  own  senses.  To  the  orator, 
this  is  far  more  important  than  to  the  ordinary  student, 


THOUGHT    AXD    EMOTION.  93 

for  it  adds  greatly  to  the  royal  faculty  of  imagination.  A 
description  from  the  lips  of  a  speaker  wlio  beholds  at  the 
moment  a  mental  picture,  accurate  as  a  photograph,  and 
l)rig]it  with  cojoi',  will  he  vciy  different  from  another 
"*  description  built  up  only  of  words,  however  well  chosen 
and  melodious  the  latter  may  be.  A  little  dabbling  in 
natural  science,  a  few  experiments  tried,  an  occasional 
peep  through  telescop(;  or  microscope  at  the  worlds  they 
open,  and  all  other  means  of  bringing  knowletlge  under 
the  scrutiny  of  our  ow^n  senses,  will  greatly  contribute  to 
the  poAver  of  the  orator. 

The  reasoning  faculties  must  also  Ix'  traine<l  by  exer- 
cise upon  their  own  objects.  The  knowledge  which  has 
been  gathered  from  jx-rsonal  observation  or  from  the 
testimony  of  others  in  books  will  furnish  material,  but 
Avill  not  enable  us  to  reason.  IjOgic  and  mathematics 
have  considerable  utility  as  gui(las,.but  tluy  caimot  supply 
the  Avant  of  continuous  application  of  tlic  processes  of 
argument  and  deduction.  Xo  man  bwomes  a  reasoner 
from  merely  learning  the  mode  in  Avhich  the  reason 
operates.  '  Of  two  persons,  one  of  whom  understands 
.  every  mood  of  the  syllogism  and  the  source  of  every 
fallacv,  while  the  other  has  no  technical  kiiowle<!ge  of 
logic,  but  has  be<>n  engaged  in  careful  reasoning,  discus- 
sion, and  argument,  all  his  life,  it  may  easily  happen  that 
the  latter  will  be  the  better  reasoner  of  the  two — -just  as 
a  man  might  learn  from  the  books  all  the  rules  of  the 


94  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

game  of  croquet,  and  yet  be  beaten  by  another  who 
continually  handled  the  mallet,  but  had  never  read  a 
single  rule.  Practice  makes  perfect.  Es^ay  writing, 
constructing  arguments,  tracing  effects  back  to  their 
causes,  making  carefid  comparison  of  all  things  that  can 
be  compared,  in  short,  bringing  our  judgment  to  bear 
upon  all  facts,  forming  our  own  opinions  of  every  event^ 
and  being  always  ready  to  give  a  reason  to  those  who 
ask, — these  modes  of  exercise  will  make  tlie  faculty  of 
reason  grow  continually  stronger.  It  is  not  pretended 
that  these  or  any  other  modes  of  cultivation  can  make 
all  minds  equal,  but  they  will  improve  any  one — the 
lowest  as  surely  as  the  most  active — though  the  interval 
after  both  have  been  thus  exercised  will  remain  as  great 
as  before. 

Extempore  speech  itself,  when  practiced  upon  carefully 
arranged  plans  or  models  as  recommended  hereafter,  is 
one  of  the  most  powerftil  modes  of  cultivating  the  logi- 
cal faculty.  To  construct  plans,  so  that  all  thoughts 
acciunulated  upon  a  given  subject  may  be  imfolded  in  a 
natural  and  orderly  manner,  cannot  fail  to  exercise  the 
reasoning  faculties,  and  impart  corresponding  strength  to 
them. 

But  how  shall  emotion  be  cnltivate<l"?  The  wisest 
speech,  if  deep  feeling  neither  throbs  in  the  words  nor 
is  manifested  in  delivery,  cannot  Ire  eloquent.  The 
orator  can  only  speak  forth  from  an  aroused  and  excitetl 


THOrGHT    AND    EMOTION.  95 

nature.  There  is  a  kiud  of  intellectual  excitation 
kindled  bv  the  presentation  of  truth  which  is  suf- 
ficiently effective  when  instruction  is  the  only  object. 
But  to  persuade  and  move  men — the  usual  aim  of  tJie 
orator — retpiires  passion.  No  pretense  will  avail  the 
extemjx)re  speaker.  He  will  infallibly  1k'  detected  if 
counterfeitin<»:,  and  to  succeed  in  exhibiting  fwlinir  he 
must  really  feel.  There  are  but  two  things  which  can 
arouse  feeling — ciire  for  a  «iuse  or  for  persons.  ]Many  a 
man  is  eloquent  M'hen  '•  riding  his  hobln-,"  though  at  no 
other  time.  He  has  thought  so  much  upon  that  special 
subject,  and  has  so  thoroughly  identified  himself  with  it, 
that  everything  relating  to  it  becomes  invested  with  per- 
sonal interest.  Any  cause  which  c-an  thus  l)e  made  per- 
sonal will  be  a])t  to  aroiLse  feeling.  It  would  be  wise, 
therefore,  fi)r  an  orator  to  identity  himself  as  closely  as 
possible  with  all  manner  of  good  c-auses  which  come 
within  his  reach.  Then  such  well-springs  of  emotion 
will  gush  out  easily  and  frequently. 

This  mode  of  excitation  is  largely  intellectual  in  its 
character.  The  next  to  be  described  has  more  to  do  with 
■  the  affections.  The  clergvman  wants  to  secure  the  wel- 
fare of  his  congregation,  and  the  better  he  is  acquainted 
with  them  individually  tlie  stronger  will  be  this  wish. 
The  lawyer  is  1iut  a  poor  attornev  if  he  does  not  so 
identifv  himself  witli  his  client  as  to  feel  more  than  a 
professional  interest  in  the  latter's  success.     The  politi- 


96  .  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

cian  needs  no  exhortation  to  rouse  his  enthusiasm  for  his 
party  and  his  chief.  All  these  are  instances  of  that  care 
for  persons  which  adds  so  greatly  to  the  powers  of  effec- 
tive speech.  The  plain  inference,  therefore,  is  that  the 
speaker  will  gain  largely  by  identifying  himself  as 
closely  as  possible  with  the  interests  of  men,  and  by  cul- 
tivating love  for  them.  A  cynical  or  indifferent  spirit 
makes  a  fearful  discount  from  the  possibilities  of 
eloquence.  Only  the  greatest  qualities  in  other  direc- 
tions can  })revent  it  from  proving  fatal. 

The  power  and  sensitiveness  of  emotions  founded  upon 
intimate  knowledge  and  partnership  of  interest  go  far 
to  explain  the  wonderful  eloquence  of  the  old  Greeks. 
Their  country  was  the  native  land  of  eloquence.  This 
arose  not  so  much  from  the  character  of  that  p-ifted  race 
as  from  the  fact  that  each  speaker  personally  knew  his 
audience  and  had  an  intimate,  material  interest  in  the 
affairs  he  discussed.  They  regarded  their  opponents  as 
terribly  bad  men.  Their  own  lives  and  the  liyes  of 
many  of  their  friends  were  not  unfrequently  involved  in 
the  questions  they  discussed.  The  States  were  so  small, 
and  the  personal  element  so  important,  that  strongly 
aroused  feeling  became  inevitable.  The  discussion  of 
war  or  peace  before  an  audience  who  knew  that  if  they 
voted  Avar  their  town  miglit  be  besieged  by  the  enemy 
within  a  fortnight,  was  sure  to  be  eagerly  listened  to. 
No  platitudes  Avould  be  tolerated.     The  orators  spoke 


THOUGHT  AXD  EMOTION'.  97 

before  their  neighbors,  some  of  them  friendly,  others 
bitter  enemies  who  were  seeking  in  each  Avord  they 
uttered  an  occasion  for  their  ruin.  Much  of  the  Mon- 
derful  power  of  Demosthenes  arose  from  the  deep  solici- 
tude felt  by  himself  and  excited  in  his  hearers  as  they 
watched  the  swiftly  coming  ruin  of  their  common 
country. 

It  is  also  a  law  of  human  nature  that  we  feel  deeply 
tor  that  whicli  has  cost  us  great  labor.  The  collector  of 
old  china  or  of  entomological  specimens  learns  to 
•greatly  value  the  ugly  dishes  and  bugs  he  gathers,  though 
others  may  despise  them.  The  more  of  real  work  we 
do  in  the  world,  the  deeper  the  hold  our  hearts  take 
upon  it.  This  is  one  of  the  se(;rets  of  the  power  of 
goodness  as  an  element  of  oratory.  It  was  long  ago 
declared  that  a  good  man,  other  things  being  ecpial,  will 
be  a  better  speaker  than  a  bad  man.  His  affections  are 
called  forth  by  a  greater  variety  of  objects.  Yet  hate 
can  make  a  man  eloquent  as  well  as  love,  and  some  of 
the  most  eloquent  orations  ever  uttered  partook  largely 
of  this  baleful  inspiration.  But  the  occasions  on  which 
noble  feelings  may  rise  into  eloquence  are  far  more 
numerous  and  important. 

Why  should  not  a  man  train  himself  to  take  a  deep 
interest  in  all  that  is  brought  familiarly  to  his  notice? 
This  wide  range  of  sympathy  is  one  of  the  marks  which 
distinguishes  a  great  from  a  small  mind.     It  has  been 


98  EXTEMPORE  SPEECH. 

said  that  "  lunar  politics  "  can  have  no  possible  interests 
for  the  inhabitants  of  this  globe.  But  who  can  be  sure 
of  this,  if  there  be  such  a  thing  as  "  lunar  politics "  ? 
The  wider  our  knowledge  the  more  Ave  recognize  the 
possibility  of  mterests  which  we  had  not  before  dreamed 
of.  If  there  are  inhabitants  on  the  moon,  and  if  we 
have  an  immortal  existence,  it  is  far  from  impossible 
that  we  mio'ht  some  time  be  brought  into  the  closest  con- 
nection  with  them.  No  man  can  tell  the  bearing  of  a 
new  fact  upon  human  welfare,  more  than  he  can  write 
the  history  of  a  new-born  babe.  At  any  rate,  every 
fact  is  a  part  of  the  great  system  of  truth  which  lies  all 
about  us,  and  which  is  adapted  to  the  needs  of  our  intel- 
lect. Let  it  also  be  remembered  that  all  men  are  kin- 
dred, and  that  we  should  make  common  cause  with  them. 
When  this  comes  to  be  the  habitual  attitude  of  the  mind, 
not  as  a  mere  sentiment,  but  as  a  strong  and  steady 
impulse,  impassioned  speech  on  any  great  theme  affecting 
the  interests  of  nations  or  individual  men  will  be  easy. 

Emotion  cannot  be  feigned,  neither  can  it  be  directly 
roused  by  an  effort  of  the  will.  We  cannot  say,  "  Now 
I  will  be  in  a  furious  passion,"  or,  "  Now  I  will  be 
inflamed  with  wrath  against  this  great  wrong,"  for  the 
mere  sake  of  speaking  better  upon  the  subject  in  hand. 
But  we  can  gaze  upon  a  great  wrong,  and  meditate  upon 
the  evil  it  involves,  until  the  tides  of  indignant  emotion 
arise  in  our  breast.     Many  a  well-prepared  speech  has 


THOUGHT    AXD    EMOTION.  99 

failed  of  effect,  because  the  orator  was  so  anxious  about 
the  form  of  his  address  aud  his  own  popularity  as  to 
lose  interest  in  the  subject  itself.  Sometimes  s])eeches 
read  or  recited  fail  from  an  opposite  cause.  The  interest 
has  once  been  anjused,  aud  having-  burned  duriuti;  the 
protracted  period  of  composition,  it  cools  aud  cauuot  \m 
recalled.  No  energy,  declamation,  or  elegance  of  diction 
can  redeem  this  ca[)ital  defect. 

To  tell  a  uian  in  general  terms  how  he  may  widen  his 
sympathies  and  cuter  into  the  closest  bonds  with  his  fel- 
lows is  difficult.  It  is  nuich  easier  to  tell  him  what  not 
to  do.  The  hermits  of  the  desert  took  exactly  the 
wrong  course.  They  lost  the  power  of  elo(|uence  except 
upon  some  theme  which  could  be  wedded  to  their  solitary 
musings.  Peter  the  Hermit  was  roused  to  fury  by  the 
tales  of  wrongs  to  pilgrims  in  the  Holy  City — almost 
the  only  thing  that  could  have  made  him  eloquent.  But 
on  that  one  topic  he  spoke  like  a  man  inspired  and  was 
able  to  call  all  Europe  to  arms.  Whatever  separates 
from  the  common  interests  of  humanity  must  diuiiuish 
the  power  or  at  least  the  range  of  genuine  emotion.  To 
know  a  great  many  men,  to  understand  their  business 
affairs,  to  enter  into  their  joy  and  fear,  to  watch  the  feel- 
ings that  rise  aud  fall  in  their  hearts,  is  sure  to  deepen 
our  own  feelings  by  unconscious  imitation  and  sympathy. 
Each  new  friend  Ls  an  added  power  of  noblest  emotion — 
a  new  point  at  which  the  world  takes  hold  of  our  hearts. 


100  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

How  many  persons  are  eloquent  for  a  cause  only!  On 
the  other  hand,  some  men  care  nothing  for  general  prin- 
ciples, but  will  throw  their  whole  soul  into  a  conflict  for 
friends. 

That  man  is  well  furnished  for  eloquence  who  knows 
a  great  deal,  \vli(»  can  mentally  combine,  arrange,  and 
reason  ciorrectly  upon  what  he  knows,  who  feels  a  per- 
sonal interest  in  every  ftict  Avitli  which  his  memory  is 
stored,  and  every  principle  which  can  be  deduced  from 
those  facts,  and  who  has  so  great  an  interest  in  his  fel- 
lows that  all  deeds  which  affect  them  awaken  the  same 
response  in  his  heart  as  if  done  to  himself.  He  will 
then  possess  all  the  necessary  treasures  of  thought,  and 
will  himself  be  warmed  by  the  fires  of  emotion.  The 
only  remaining  problem  will  be  to  find  the  manner  of 
communicating  his  thought  and  emotion  in  undiminished 
force  to  others  through  the  medium  of  speech.- 

The  mode  of  cultivating  the  powers  necessary  to  this 
end  will  next  engage  our  attention. 


CHAPTER  III. 
Language, 

The  preceding  chapter  (leak  \\itli  tliose  faculties  which 
provide  the  materials  of  speech,  and  in  one  sense  was 
scarcely  appropriate  to  a  treatise  designed  to  show  the 
best  modes  of  communicating  knowledge.  Yet  it  was 
difficult  ti)  a])j)r(tacli  the  sul)j<'ct  intelligibly  in  any  other 
way.  So  nmcii  has  been  said  about  the  natural  ])()wcr 
of  oratory  that  it  was  necessary  to  define  its  character 
and  to  show  how  it  might  be  supplemented  by  cultiva- 
tion. But  it  is  more  directly  our  task  to  point  out  the 
mode  of  improving  the  conununicative  faculties. 

First  in  importance  among  these  stands  language. 
Without  its  assistance  thouglit  could  not  be  consecutively 
imparted.  Some  vague  and  intangiljle  conceptions  nn'ght 
arise  within  our  own  minds,  but  even  these  could  not  be 
given  to  other  minds  without  tlie  medium  of  ^\<»rds. 
/riu'  [)o\ver  of  language  is  distinct  from  genei-al  inleUee- 
tual  ability.  It  by  no  means  follows  that  a  man  who 
possesses  important  thoughts  and  deep  emotions  will  be 
able  to  communicate  them  well ;  but  a  very  moderate 
endowment  of  the  Mord-faculty  may  be  so  cultivated  as 
to  fulfill  every  requirement.  Diligent  i)ractice  in  the 
methods  advised  below  will  enable  the  great  majority  of 

101 


102  EXTEMPOEE    SPEECH. 

ineu  to  express  their   thoughts  Avith  fulhiess  and   ac- 
curacy. 

There  are  certain  laws  in  every  language  made  binding 
by  custom,  Avhieli  cannot  be  transgressed  without  expos- 
ing the  offender  to  the  severe  penalty  of  ridicule  and 
contempt.  These  laws  form  the  basis  of  grammar,  and 
must  be  thoroughly  learned.  If  a  man  has  been  under 
the  influence  of  good  models  from  childhood,  correctness 
will  be  a  matter  almost  of  instinct ;  but  the  reverse  of 
this  is  frequently  the  case.  Even  then  there  is  but  little 
difficulty  experienced  by  any  one  who  will  take  the 
necessary  pains,  in  learning  to  write  in  accordance  with 
the  rules  of  speech,  and  ^vhen  this  power  has  been 
attained  there  is  a  standard  formed  by  which  to  judge  our 
spoken  words.  But  it  is  not  enough  for  the  extempore 
speaker  to  be  able  to  reduce  his  sentences  to  correctness 
by  recasting,  pruning,  or  adding  to  them.  They  should 
be  recpiired  to  present  themselves  at  first  in  correct  form 
and  in  rounded  completeness.  He  has  no  time  to  think 
of  right  or  wrong  constructions,  and  the  only  safe  way, 
therefore,  is  to  make  the  right  so  liabitual  that  the  wrong 
will  not  once  be  thought  of.  In  other  words,  Ave  nnist 
not  onlv  1k'  able  to  exin'css  ourselves  correctlvbv  tonp'ue 
and  iH'u,  but  the  very  current  of  unspoken  words  that 
flows  in  our  brains  nmst  be  shaped  in  full  conformity  to 
the  laws  of  language.  Wlien  we  exercise  the  power  of 
continuous  grauimatical  thinking^  there  will  be  no  diffi- 


LAXGUAGE.  103 

oulty  in  avoiding  the  ridiculous  blunders  which  are  sup- 
posed to  be  inseparable  from  extempore  speech. 

Correctness  in  pronunciation  is  also  of  importance. 
Usage  has  given  each  word  its  authorized  sound,  which 
no  person  can  frequently  mistake  without  rendering  him- 
self liable  to  the  easiest  and  most  damaging  of  all  criti- 
cisms.    Bad   pronunciation  produces   another  and   ex- 
tremely hurtful  effect  upon  extempore  speech.    The  men- 
tal effort  necessary  to  discriminate  between  two  modes  of 
pronouncing  a  word,  neither  of  which  is  known  to  be 
right,  diverts  the  mind  from  the  subject  and  produces  em- 
barrassment  and  hesitation.      Accuracy  in  the  use  of 
words,  which  is  a  charm  in  spoken  no  less  than  written 
language,  may  also  be  impaired  from  the  same  cause ;  for 
if  two  terms  that  may  be  used  for  the  same  idea  are 
thought  of,  only  one  of  which  can  be  pronounccnl  with  cer- 
tainty, that  one  will  be  preferred,  even  if  the  other  be  the 
more  suitable.    The  extemporizer  ought  to  be  so  familiar 
with  the  sound  of  all  connnon  words  that  none  but  the 
right  ])ronunciation  and  accent  will  ever  enter  his  mind. 
Fluency  and  accuracy  in  the  use  of  \\'ords  are  two 
qualities  that  have  often  been  confounded,  though  per- 
fectly distinct.     To  the  speaker  they  are  of  ec[ual  im- 
portance, while  the  writer  has  far  more  need  of  the  latter. 
All  words  have  their  own  peculiar  shades  of  meaning. 
They  have   been  builded  up  into  their   present  shape 
through  long  ages.     By  strange  turns  and  with  many  a 


104  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

ciirious  liir^tory  have  they  glided  into  the  signifieations 
thev  now  bear ;  and  eaeh  one  is  imbedded  m  the  minds 
of  the  people  as  the  representative  of  certain  definite 
ideas.  A\\»rds  are  delicate  paints  that,  to  the  untutored 
eyc^  may  seem  of  one  color,  but  each  lias  its  own  place 
m  the  picture  paintetl  by  the  hand  of  genius,  and  can  be 
supplanted  by  no  other.  Many  methods  have  been  sug- 
gested for  learning  these  fine  shades  of  meaning.  The 
study  of  Greek  and  Latin  has  been  urged  as  the  best  and 
almost  the  only  way :  such  study  may  be  very  useftil 
for  discipline,  and  will  give  much  elementary  knowledge 
of  the  laws  of  language:  but  the  man  who  knows  no 
other  tongue  than  his  OAvn  need  not  consider  himself 
debarred  from  the  very  highest  place  as  a  master  of 
words.  The  careful  study  of  a  good  etymological  dic- 
tionary will,  in  time,  give  him  about  all  the  valuable 
information  bearing  upon  this  subject  that  he  could 
obtain  from  the  study  of  many  languages.  In  general 
reading,  let  him  mark  every  Avord  he  does  not  perfectly 
understand,  and  from  the  dictionary  find  its  origin,  the 
meaning  of  its  roots,  and  its  varied  significations  at  the 
])resent  day.  This  will  make  the  word  as  familiar  as  an 
old  acquaintance,  and  Avhen  he  meets  it  again  he  will 
•notice  if  the  author  uses  it  correctly.  The  student  may 
not  be  able  to  examine  every  word  in  the  language,  but 
by  this  mode  he  will  be  led  to  think  of  the  meaning  of 
each  one  he  sees ;  and  from  this  silent  practice  he  will  learn 


LANGUAGE.  105 

the  beauty  and  power  oi"  Kiimlish  as  fully  as  if  he  sought 
it  through  the  litei'atiu'es  ol"  (irceee  aud  Rome,  li'^  this 
habit  is  long  continued  it  will  cause  words  to  be  used 
correctly  in  thinking  as  well  as  in  speaking.  To  read  a 
dictionai'v  consecutively  and  carefully  (ignoring  the  old 
stoi'v  about  its  trequent  change  of  sul)ject)  will  also  be 
ft)und  very  pi'ofitable. 

Translating  from  any  language,  ancient  or  modern, 
will  have  Just  tlie  same  tendency  to  teach  accurate  ex- 
jiression  as  careful  oiMginal  conj[)osition.  In  either  case 
the  improvement  comes  from  the  search  for  words  that 
exactly  convey  certain  ideas,  and  it  matters  not  what  the 
source  of  the  ideas  may  be.  The  use  of  a  good  thesauras, 
or  storehouse  of  words,  may  also  be  serviceable  by  show- 
ing in  one  view  all   the  words  that  relate  to  any  subject. 

Jiut  none  of  these  methods  will  greatly  inereaseyi^Menc?/. 
There  is  a  practical  difference  l)etween  merely  knowing 
a  term  and  that  easy  use  of  it  which  only  habit  can  give. 
Klihu  liurritt,  with  his  knowledge  of  fifh'  languages, 
has  often  been  surpassed  in  fluency,  force,  and  variety  of 
expression  by  an  uiiletteivd  farmer,  because  the  few 
words  the  latter  knew  were  always  read}'.  There  is  no 
way  to  increase  this  easy  and  fluent  use  of  language 
witiiout  much  practice  in  utterance.  Where  and  how- 
can  such  practice  be  obtained  ? 

Conversation  affords  an  excellent  mean.i  for  this  kind 
of  improvement.     We  do  not  mean  the  running  Are  of 


10()  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

question  and  answer,  glancing  so  rapidly  back  and  forth 
as  to  allow  no  time  for  premeditating  or  explaining  any- 
thing, but  real  and  rational  talk — an  exchange  of 
thoughts  and  ideas  clearly  and  intelligibly  expressed. 
The  man  who  engages  much  in  tliis  kind  of  conversa- 
tion can  scarcely  fail  to  become  an  adept  in  the  art  of 
expressing  his  thoughts  in  appropriate  language.  Talk 
much  ;  express  your  ideas  in  the  best  manner  possible ; 
if  difficult  at  first,  persevere,  and  it  will  become  easier. 
Thus  you  will  learn  eloquence  in  the  best  and  most 
pleasing  school.  The  common  conversational  style — 
that  in  which  man  deals  directly  with  his  fellow  man — 
is  the  germ  of  true  oratory.  It  may  be  amplified  and 
systematized ;  but  talking  bears  to  eloquence  the  same 
relation  that  the  soil  does  to  the  tree  that  springs  out  of 
its  bosom. 

But  the  best  thoughts  of  men  and  the  noblest  expres- 
sions are  seldom  found  floating  on  the  sea  of  common 
talk.  To  drink  the  deepest  inspiration,  our  minds  must 
often  come  in  loving  communion  with  the  wise  and 
mighty  of  all  ages.  In  the  masterpieces  of  literature  we 
A\ill  find  "  thought  knit  close  to  thought,"  and,  what  is 
still  more  to  our  present  purpose,  words  so  applied  as  to 
breathe  and  live.  These  passages  should  be  read  until 
their  spirit  sinks  into  our  hearts  and  their  melody  rings 
like  a  blissful  song  in  our  ears.  To  memorize  many 
such  passages  will  be  a  profitable  employment.  "  The 


T>AXOrAGE.  107 

words  of  which  such  masterpieces  are  composed,  with 
the  meanings  they  hear  in  their  several  places,  will  thus 
he  fixed  in  our  minds  ready  to  drop  on  our  tongues  when 
needed.  This  conning  of  beautiful  passages  is  not  now 
recommended  for  the  i)urposeof  quotation,  although  they 
may  often  be  used  in  that  manner  to  good  advantage, 
but  simply  to  print  the  individual  \vords  with  their  sig- 
nification more  deeply  in  memory. 

This  may  be  effected,  also,  by  memorizing  selections 
from  our  own  best  writings.  A\']iat  is  thus  used  should 
be  highly  polished,  and  yet  preserve,  as  far  as  possible, 
the  natui'al  form  of  expression.  Carried  to  a  moderate 
extent,  tliis  exercise  tends  to  elevate  the  character  of  our 
extemporaneous  efforts  by  erecting  a  standard  that  is  our 
own,  and  therefore  suited  to  our  tastes  and  capacities ; 
but  if  made  habitual,  it  will  induce  a  reliance  u])()n  the 
mc^mory  rather  than  on  the  poAver  of  spontaneous  ])ro- 
duction,  and  thus  destroy  the  faculty  it  was  designeil  to 
cultivate. 

But  no  means  of  cultivating  fluency  in  language  can 
rival  extempore  speech  itself.  The  only  difficulty  is  to 
.  find  a  sufficient  number  of  occasions  to  speak.  I^ong 
intervals  of  preparation  have  great  advantages  as  far  as 
the  gathering  of  material  for  discourse  is  concerned;  but 
tluy^  have  disadvantages,  also,  which  can  only  be  oN'er- 
come  by  more  diligent  effort  in  other  directions. 

Clear  and  definite  ideas  greatly  increase  the  power  of 


108  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

language.  AVlien  a  thought  is  fully  understood  it  falls 
into  words  as  naturally  as  a  summer  cloud,  riven  by  the 
lightning,  dissolves  into  rain.  So  easy  is  it  to  express  a 
series  of  ideas,  completely  mastered,  that  a  successful 
speaker  once  said,  "  It  is  a  man's  own  fault  if  he  ever 
fails.  Let  him  prepare  as  he  ought,  and  there  is  no 
danger."  The  assertion  was  too  strong,  for  failure  may 
come  from  other  causes  than  a  want  of  preparation.  Yet 
the  continuance  of  careful  drill,  in  connection  with  fre- 
quent speaking  and  close  preparation,  will  give  very 
great  ease  and  certainty  of  expression.  The  "  blind  but 
eloquent"  preaclier,  Milburn,  says  that  he  gave  four  years 
of  his  life — the  time  spent  as  chaplain  at  Washington — 
to  acquire  the  poAAcr  of  speaking  correctly  and  easily 
without  tlie  previous  use  of  the  pen,  and  he  declares  that 
he  considers  the  time  well  spent.  His  style  is  diifuse, 
sparkling,  rhetorical,  the  most  difficu.lt  to  acquire,  though 
not  l)y  any  means  tlie  most  valual)l('.  An  earnest,  ner- 
vous, and  yet  elegant  style  may  Ix'  formed  by  those  who 
have  the  necessary  qualifications  in  much  shorter  time. 


CHAPTER  TV. 

lMA(i  I  NATION. 

Nothing- adds  more  to  the  hi-illiaiicy  and  en'oclivcness 
of  oratory  than  the  i-oyal  f'acnhy  of  imagination.  This 
weird  and  ghjrious  power  deals  with  trnth  as  well  as  fic- 
tion and  gives  to  its  fortunate  possessor  the  creative,  life- 
breathing  spirit  of  poetry. 

Listen  to  the  description  of  natural  scenery  by  a  per- 
son of  imagination,  and  afterward  by  another  destitute 
of  that  faculty !  Each  may  be  perfally  accurate  and 
refer  to  the  same  objects,  even  enumerating  the  same 
particulars  in  the  same  order;  but  the  one  gives  a  cata- 
logue, the  other  a  picture.  In  relating  a  story  or  enforc- 
ing an  argument,  the  same  difference  in  the  vividness  of 
impression  is  apparent. 

It  is  said  of  Ileniy  Ward  Beecher,  who  possesses  a 
strong  imagination,  that  the  people  would  listen  with 
delighted  attention  if  he  only  described  the  mode  in 
which  a  potato  grew  !  He  would  see  a  thousand  beauties 
in  its  budding  and  blossoming,  and  paint  the  picture  so 
vividly  as  to  command  universal  attention. 

The  Bible,  which  is  the  most  ])opular  of  all  Iwoks,  is 
pre-eminently  a  book  of  imagination.  Nowhere  is  loftier 
or  more  beautiful  imagery  employed,  or  wrought  into 

109 


110  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

more  exquisite  forms.  A  few  short  and  simple  words 
paint  pictures  that  the  world  looks  upon  with  astonish- 
ment from  age  to  age.  Paradise  Lost,  the  most  sublime 
imaginative  poem  in  tiic  language  of  man,  drew  much  of 
its  inspiration  from  a  few  passages  in  Genesis.  Job  and 
Isaiah  are  without  rivals  in  the  i)ower  of  picturing  by 
means  of  words,  sublime  objects  beyond  the  grasp  of 
mortal  vision. 

While  illustrations  and  comparisons  flow  principally 
from  the  reasoning  faculties,  their  beauty  and  sparkle 
come  from  imagination.  Without  its  influence  these 
may  explain  and  simplify,  but  they  have  no  power  to 
interest  the  hearer  or  elevate  the  tenor  of  discourse. 

How  may  imagination  be  cultivated  ?  It  is  said  that 
"  Poets  are  born,  not  made,"  but  the  foundation  of  every 
other  faculty  also  is  in  nature,  Avhile  all  are  useless, 
unless  improved,  and  applied.  Imagination  will  increase 
in  vigor  and  activity  by  proper  use.  Its  function  is  to 
form  complete  mental  images  from  the  detached  mate- 
rials furnished  by  the  senses.  It  gathers  from  all 
sources  and  mixes  and  mingles  until  a  picture  is  pro- 
duced. The  proper  Avay  to  cultivate  it  lies  in  forming 
abundance  of  just  such  pictures  and  in  finishing  them 
with  all  possible  care,  Ijet  the  orator,  on  the  canvas  of 
the  mind,  paint  in  full  size  and  perfect  coloring,  every 
part  of  his  speech  which  relates  to  material  or  visible 
things.     Illustrations  also  can  usually  be  represented  in 


IMAGIXATIOX.  Ill 

picturesque  form.  We  do  not  now  speak  of  outwai'd 
representation,  but  of  viewing  all  objects  in  clear  dis- 
tinctness, through  the  eye  of  the  mind.  Ft  is  not  enough 
for  the  speaker,  if  he  would  reach  the  iiighest  success,  to 
gather  all  the  facts  he  wishes  to  use,  to  arrange  them  in 
the  best  order,  or  even  to  premeditate  the  very  form  of 
words.  Instead  of  the  latter  process,  he  may  more  [)ro- 
fitfibly  strive  to  embrace  all  that  can  be  pictured  in  one 
mental  view.  If  he  can  summon  before  him  in  the 
moment  of  description  the  very  scenes  and  events  about 
which  he  is  discoursing,  and  behold  them  vividly  as  in  a 
waking  dream,  it  is  probable  that  his  auditors  will  see 
them  in  the  same  manner.  A  large  part  of  all  discourses 
may  thus  be  made  pictorial.  In  Ivanhoe,  one  of  the 
characters  looks  out  through  a  castle  window  and  describes 
to  a  wounded  knight  within  the  events  of  the  assault  which 
was  being  made  upon  the  castle.  Any  person  could  describe 
the  most  stirring  scene  vividlv  and  well  in  the  moment 
of  witnessing  it.  A  strong  imagination  enables  a  speaker 
or  poet  to  see  those  things  he  speaks  of  almost  as  accu- 
rately and  impressively  as  if  passing  before  his  bodily 
eyes,  and  often  with  far  more  brightness  of  color.  To 
make  the  effort  to  see  what  we  write  or  read  will  have 
a  powerful  eifect  in  improving  the  imaginative  faculty. 
Reading  and  carefully  pondering  the  Avorks  of  those 
who  have  imagination  in  high  degree  will  also  be  help- 
ful.    The  time  devoted  to  the  enjoyment  of  great  poems 


112  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

is  not  lost  to  the  orator.  They  give  richness  and  tone 
to  his  mind,  introduce  him  into  scenes  of  ideal  beauty, 
and  furnish  him  with  many  a  striking  thought  and  glow- 
ing image. 

Most  of  the  sciences  give  as  full  scope  to  imagination 
in  its  best  workings  as  poetry  itself.  Astronomy  and 
geology  are  pre-eminent  in  this  particular.  Every- 
thing about  them  is  grand.  They  deal  with  immense 
j5eriods  of  time,  vast  magnitudes,  and  sublime  histories. 
Each  science  requires  the  formation  of  mental  images  and 
thus  gives  the  advantages  we  have  already  pointed  ont. 
It  is  possible  for  a  scientific  man  to  deal  exclusively  with 
the  shell  rather  than  the  substance  of  science,  with  its 
technical  names  and  definitions  rather  than  its  grand 
truths ;  but  in  this  case  the  fiiult  is  with  himself  rather 
than  with  his  subject.  The  dryness  of  scientific  and  even 
mathematical  studies  relates  only  to  the  preliminary  de- 
partments. A  philosopher  once  said  that  success  in  science 
and  in  poetry  depended  upon  the  same  faculties.  He  was 
very  nearly  right.  TJie  poet  is  a  creator  who  forms  new 
worlds  of  his  own.  The  greatest  of  their  number  thus 
describes  the  process  by  which  imagination  performs  its 
magic. 

"  The  poet's  eye,  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling, 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven; 

And,  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  form.s  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 


IMAGINATION.  113 

Turns  them  to  shapes  and  giv^es  to  airy  nothing 

A  local  habitation  and  a  name. 

Such  tricks  hath  strong  imagination." 

Almost  the  same  result  must  be  reached  in  many  (k'})art- 
ments  of  science,  with  the  aid  of  only  a  few  scattered  facts 
for  a  basis.  The  geologist  has  some  broken  bones,  withered 
leaves,  and  fragments  of  rock,  from  which  to  reconstruct 
the  primitive  world.  From  the  half-dozen  facts  observed 
tlirough  his  telescope,  the  astronomer  pictures  the  physi- 
cal condition  of  distant  planets.  In  every  science  the 
same  need  exists  for  imagination  in  its  highest,  most 
trutliful  function^  and  the  same  opportunity  is,  therefore, 
alFordcd  for  its  cultivation. 

An  eminent  elocutionist  frc(|U('ntly  urged  his  classes  to 
employ  all  pauses  in  mentally  ])i(turiiig  the  idea  contained 
in  tlie  coming  sentence.  He  declare<l  that  by  this  means 
the  expr(\ssion  of  the  voice  Avas  rendered  more  rich  and 
true.  In  uttering  our  own  words  this  process  is  at  once 
more  easy  and  more  fruitful  in  varied  advantages. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Voice  and  Gesture. 

Voice  and  gesture  form  the  immediate  linL.  between 
the  speaker  and  his  audience.  The  vakie  of  good  quality 
in  both  is  sometimes  over-estimated,  though  it  is  always 
considerable.  A  good  voice,  well  managed,  gives  pow- 
erful and  vivid  expression  to  thought,  but  cannot  supply 
the  absence  of  it.  Neither  is  such  a  voice  indispen- 
sable. Many  instances  of  high  succ^s  against  vocal 
disadvantages  might  be  mentioned  ;  but  these  only  prove 
that  other  excellencies  may  atone  for  a  single  defect. 
We  can  never  be  indiiferent  to  the  charms  of  a  good 
voice,  that  modulates  with  every  emotion  and  responds 
to  the  finest  shades  of  feeling.  It  has  much  of  the 
pleasing  quality  of  music. 

But  this  harmony  cannot  be  evoked  by  merely 
mechanical  training.  To  teach  the  pupil  just  what  note 
on  the  musical  scale  he  must  strike  to  express  a  particular 
emotion,  how  much  of  'an  inflection  must  be  used  to 
express  joy  or  sorrow,  and  how  many  notes  down  the 
scale  mark  a  complete  suspension  of  sense,  is  absurd : 
speech  can  never  be  set  to  music. 

But  let  it  not  be  inferred  from  this  that  voice  cultiva- 
tion is  useless.     The  more  perfect  the  instrument  for  the 

114 


VOICE    AXD    GESTURE.  115 

expressiou  of  thought  can  be  made,  the  better  it  will  Ije 
fitted  for  its  high  office.  An  orator  may  profitably  spend 
a  little  time  daily  for  years  in  training  the  voice,  for  it 
is  a  faculty  he  must  continually  employ,  and  none  is 
more  susceptible  of  im[)rov('ment.  The  passion  evoked 
in  animated  speech  will  demand  for  its  adequate  expres- 
sion almost  every  note  and  key  within  the  compass  of 
the  voice ;  and  unless  it  has  prev^iously  been  trained  into 
strength  on  each  of  these,  it  will  fail  or  grow  weary. 
The  proper  kind  of  pre})aration  operates  by  exploring 
the  range  of  the  voice,  testing  its  capabilities,  and  im- 
proving each  tone.  This  work  is  not  imitative  or  slavish. 
It  is  only  like  putting  an  instrument  in  tune  before  be- 
ginning a  musical  performance. 

To  give  full  clocutionarv  instruction  here  would  be 
aside  from  our  purpose;  but  a  few  useful  modes  of 
practice  may  be  pointed  out. 

Good  articulation  is  of  prime  importance.  Xotliing 
will  contribute  more  to  secure  this  valuable  quality  than 
the  separation  of  words  into  their  elements  of  sound 
and  continued  practice  on  each  element  as  thus  isolated. 
•Phonetic  shorthand  aifords  a  good  means  for  making 
such  analysis,  or  the  same  purpose  may  be  accomplislied 
by  means  of  the  marks  of  pronunciation  found  in  any 
dictionary.  As  we  practice  these  elements  of  sonnd  we 
will  discover  the  exact  nature  of  an  v  defect  of  articulation 
we  may  suffer  from,  and  can  drill   n|)on  the  sounds  tliat 


116  EXTEMPORE    SrEECH. 

are  difficult  until  they  become  easy.  When  we  have  thus 
learned  to  pronounce  these  fe^v  elements — not  much 
above  forty  in  number — and  can  follow  them  into  all 
their  combinations,  we  have  mastered  the  alphabet  of 
utterance.  It  Avill  also  contribute  greatly  to  strengthen 
the  voice  and  make  it  pliable,  if  w^e  continue  the  same 
practice  on  these  elements  at  different  degrees  of  elevation 
on  the  musical  scale  until  we  can  utter  each  one  in  full, 
round  distinctness,  at  any  pitch  from  the  deepest  bass  to 
the  shrillest  note  ever  used  in  speech.  This  will  bring 
all  varieties  of  modulation  within  easy  reach. 

Practice  on  these  elements  is  also  a  very  effective  mode 
of  strengthening  M'eak  voices.  By  pronouncing  them 
one  by  one,  with  gradually  increasing  force,  the  degree 
of  loudness  we  can  attain  at  any  pitch,  will  be  greatly 
extended.  The  amount  of  improvement  that  may  be 
made  would  be  incredible  if  it  were  not  so  often  exem- 
plified. Every  teacher  of  elocution  can  testify  of  students, 
the  power  of  whose  voices,  has  thus  been  multiplied  many 
fold ;  and  almost  equal  advantages  may  be  reaped  in 
persevering  private  practice. 

Follo'wing  on  the  same  line,  we  may  learn  to  enmiciate 
the  elements,  and  especially  the  short  vowels,  in  a  quick, 
sharp  tone,  more  rapidly  than  the  ticking  of  a  watch, 
and  with  the  clearness  of  a  bell.  This  will  enable  the 
speaker  to  avoid  drawling,  and  be  very  fast  when  desir- 
able, without  falling  into  indistinctness.     Then,  by  an 


VOICE    AXD    GESTURE.  117 

opposite  process,  otliersoiinds,  especially  the  long  vowels, 
may  be  prolonged  with  every  degree  of  force  from  the 
faintest  to  the  fullest.  Perseverance  in  these  two  exer- 
cises will  so  improve  the  ^•oice  that  no  hall  will  be  too 
large  for  its  compass. 

The  differing  extension  of  sounds,  as  well  as  their 
pitch  and  variations  in  force,  constitute  the  perspective 
of  spea*h  and  give  it  an  agreeable  variety,  like  the 
mingling  of  light  and  shade  in  a  well-executed  picture. 
The  opposite  of  this,  a  dull,  dead  uniformity,  with 
each  word  uttered  in  the  same  key,  with  the  same  force, 
and  at  the  same  degree  of  speed,  becomes  well-nigh  un- 
bearable ;  while  perpetual  modulation,  reflecting  in  each 
rise  and  fall,  eacli  storm  and  calm  of  sound,  the  living 
thought  within,  is  the  jK-rfection  of  nature,  which  the 
best  art  can  only  copy. 

All  vocal  exercises  are  of  an  essentially  preparatory 
character.  In  the  moment  of  speech  details  may  safely 
be  left  to  the  impulse  of  nature.  Supply  the  cai)ability 
by  previous  discipline,  and  tlien  allow  passion  to  clothe 
itself  in  the  most  natural  forms.  There  is  such  a  vital 
connection  between  emotion  and  the  tones  of  voice,  that 
emphasis  and  inflection  will  be  as  spontaneous,  on  the 
part  of  the  disciplined  speaker,  as  l)reatliing.  Iiules 
remembered  in  the  act  of  speaking  tend  to  destroy  all 
life  and  freshness  of  utterance. 

When  bad  habits  have  been  correcsted,  the  voice  made 


118  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

supple  and  strong,  confidence  attained,  and  deep  feeling 
evoked  in  the  speaker's  breast,  there  will  be  little  need 
to  care  for  the  rainutise  of  elocution.  The  child  that  is 
burnt  needs  no  instruction  in  the  mode  of  crying  out. 
Let  nature  have  her  way,  untrararaeled  by  art,  and  all 
feelings  will  dominate  the  voice  and  cause  every  hearer 
to  recognize  their  nature  and  participate  in  them.  In 
this  way  we  may  not  attain  the  brilliancy  of  theatric 
clap-trap,  but  we  will  be  able  to  give  '^  the  touch  of 
nature  that  makes  the  whole  world  kin." 

If  carefully  guarded,  the  faculty  of  imitation  may  be 
of  great  service  in  the  management  of  the  voice.  The 
sounds  that  express  sympathy  and  passion  are  heard 
everywhere,  forming  a  medium  of  communication  more 
subtle  and  widespread  than  any  language  of  earth.  From 
the  example  of  great  orators  we  may  learn  what  true 
excellence  is,-  and  become  able  to  reproduce  some,  at 
least,  of  their  effects.  It  would  be  hurtful  to  confine  our 
attention  too  long  to  one  model,  for  true  excellence  is 
many-sided,  and  if  we  continually  view  only  one  of  its 
phases  we  are  apt  to  fall  into'  slavish  imitation — one  of 
the  greatest  of  all  vices.  By  having  many  examples  to 
look  upon,  and  using  them  only  to  elevate  our  own  ideal, 
we  Avill  escape  this  danger.  The  models  l)efore  us  Avill 
urge  us  to  greater  exertions  and  the  whole  level  of  our 
attainments  be  raised. 

There  are  abundant  faults  to  mar  the  freedom  and 


-     VOICE    AND    GESTUEE.  119 

naturalness  of  delivery,  and  the  speaker  who  would  be 
truly  natural  must  watch  diligently  for  them  and 
exterminate  them  without  mercy.  The  sing-song  tone, 
the  scream,  the  lisp,  the  gutteral  and  tremulous  tones, 
the  rhythmical  emphasis  which  falls  like  a  trip-hammer 
at  measured  intervals,  are  specimens  of  common,  bad 
habits  that  should  be  weeded  out  as  fast  as  they  push 
through  thesoil ;  and  if  the  speaker's  egotism  is  too  great  to 
see  them,  or  his  taste  not  pure  enough,  some  friend  should 
point  them  out.  Even  the  advice  of  an  enemy  conveyed  in 
the  unpleasant  form  of  sarcasm  and  ridicule  may  be  profit- 
ably used  for  the  purpose  of  reform  and  improvement. 

Should  a  conversational  tone  be  employed  in  speak- 
ing? This  question  has  often  been  asked,  and  much  dif- 
ference of  opinion  evoked,  but  it  may  be  satisfactorily 
answered.  The  language  of  conversation  is  the  language 
of  nature  in  its  most  unfettered  form,  and  it  should, 
therefore,  be  the  basis  of  all  spewh.  The  same  variety 
and  character  of  intonations  used  in  it  should  be 
employed  in  every  variety  of  oratory.  But  conversa- 
tion itself  varies  widely  with  varying  circumstances. 
The  man  talking  with  a  friend  across  a  river  will  speak 
less  rapidly  but  more  loudly  than  if  he  held  that  I'riend 
by  the  hand.  In  speaking  to  a  number  at  once,  the 
orator  must,  m  order  to  be  heard,  speak  more  forcibly 
and  distinctly  than  in  addressing  one  only.  With  this 
explanation,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  safe  rule  that  a 


120  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

speech  should  begin  in  a  conversational  manner.  But 
should  it  continue  in  the  same  ^vay  ?     A  deep,  full  tone 

the  orotund  of  the  elocutionist — will  make  a  stronger 

impression  than  a  shrill,  feeble  utterance.  And  as  con- 
versation becomes  earnest  even  between  two  persons, 
there  is  the  tendency  to  stronger  and  more  impressive 
tones.  This  same  tendency  will  be  a  sufficient  guide  in 
speech.  A  trained  man  giving  utterance  to  a  well-pre- 
pared speet^ih,  upon  a  theme  which  appeals  to  his  own 
emotions,  will  adopt  those  oratorical  tones  ^vhich  form  a 
projjcr  medium  for  eloquence,  without  a  single  thought 
given  to  that  subject  during  the  moment  of  delivery. 
Begin  as  a  man  who  is  talking  to  a  number  of  liis  friends 
upon  an  interesting  subject;  then,  as  the  interest  deepens, 
let  go  all  restraint.  As  passion  rises  like  an  inflowing 
tide,  the  voice  will  be  so  fully  possessed  by  it  and  so 
filled  out  and  strengthened  as  to  produce  all  the  eifect 
of  Avhich  its  compass  is  capable.  It  will  deepen  into  the 
thunder  roll  when  that  is  needed,  and  at  the  right  time 
will  grow  soft  and  j)athetic. 

But  a])ove  almost  every  other  error  that  the  speaker 
can  commit,  beware  of  thinking  that  you  must  be  loud 
in  order  to  be  impressive.  Nothing  is  more  disgusting 
than  that  interminable  roar,  beginning  with  a  shout,  and 
continuing  to  split  the  speaker's  throat  and  the  hearer's 
ears  all  through  the  discourse.  This  fault  is  not  uncom- 
mon iu  tlie  pulpit,  especially  among  those  who  desire  a 


VOICE    AND    GESTURE.  121 

reputation  for  extraorcliiuuy  fervor  and  earnestness. 
But  it  is  the  worst  kind  of  monotony.  The  loudness  of 
tone,  that  applied  at  the  right  place  \\'ould  be  overpower- 
ing, loses  all  power  except  to  disgust  and  weary  an  audi- 
ence. It  exi)resses  no  more  thought  or  sentiment  than 
the  lashing  of  ocean  waves  conveys  to  the  storm-tossed 
mariner.  Have  something  to  say;  keep  the  fires  of 
passion  burning  in  your  own  soid;  learn  the  real  strength 
there  is  in  the  reserve  of  power ;  and  the  cultivated  voice 
will  not  fail  in  its  only  legitimate  office — that  of  making 
the  clear  and  adequate  impression  of  your  thoughts  and 
emotions  upon  the  souls  of  others. 

Elocutionary  manuals  properly  devote  much  space  to 
the  consideration  of  gesture,  for  the  eye  should  be 
addressed  and  pleased  as  well  as  the  ear.  But  we  doubt 
whether  tlie  marking  out  of  sj)ecial  gestures  to  be  imi- 
tated can  do  much  good.  A  few  broad  principles  like 
those  formulated  by  the  celebrated  French  teacher,  Del- 
sarte,  may  be  profitably  studied  and  made  familiar  In- 
]iractice  upon  a  few  simple  selections.  After  that  tlie 
principal  use  of  training  is  to  give  confidence  so  that  the 
speaker  may  be  in  the  full  possession  and  instinctive  use 
of  all  his  powers.  Fear  often  freezes  the  s])eaker  into 
ice-like  rigidity;  and  hearers  are  apt  to  feel  the  same 
deadly  chill  when  listening  to  some  one  whose  dominat- 
ing sentiment  is  the  fear  that  he  may  do  something  ridicu- 
lous, or  fail  to  win  their  favor. 


122  EXTEMPORE   SPEECH. 

The  secondary  use  of  training  in  gesture  is  to  discard 
awkward  and  repulsive  movements.  Timidity  and  fear 
may  be  overcome  by  a  firm  resolution,  and  the  object  is 
well  worth  the  eifort.  Bad  or  ungraceful  actions  are  far 
better  in  the  case  of  a  beginner  than  no  action  at  all. 
The  saying  of  Demosthenes,  that  the  first,  the  second, 
and  the  third  need  of  an  orator  is  "  ACTIOX,"  does  not 
fully  apply  to  the  modern  speaker.  He  needs  many 
things  more  urgently  than  action,  even  when  that  word 
is  taken  in  its  widest  sense.  But  action  is  important,  and 
when  graceful  and  expressive,  it  does  powerfully  tend  to 
arrest  attention,  and  even  to  help  the  processes  of  thought 
on  the  part  of  the  speaker  himself.  We  have  heard  sev- 
eral eloquent  men  who  scarcely  moved  during  the 
delivery  of  an  address,  but  never  without  feeling  that 
good  gesticulation  would  have  been  a  great  addition  to 
their  power.  It  is  unnatural  to  speak  for  any  consider- 
able period  of  time  without  moving.  None  but  a  lazy, 
sick,  or  bashful  man  will  do  it.  Let  the  laziness  be 
shaken  oif,  the  sickness  cured,  and  the  bashfulness 
reserved  for  a  more  fitting  occasion  !  A  man  who  is  too 
bashful  and  diffident  to  move  hand,  head,  or  foot  in  the 
})resence  of  an  audience  should  in  consistency  refuse  to 
monopolize  their  time  at  all ! 

Practice  will  usually  overcome  this  fault.  When  a 
man  has  stood  a  great  many  times  before  an  audience 
without  receiving  any  serious  injury,  and  has  a  good 


VOICE    AND    GESTURE.  128 

purpose  in  thus  claiming  tlieir  attention,  and  something 
which  he  thinks  they  ought  to  hear,  he  will  forget  his 
fears  and  allow  his  mind  to  be  engrossed,  as  that  of  a 
true  speaker  should  be,  with  the  subject  he  has  in  hand. 
Then  all  his  gestures  will  have  at  least  the  grace  of  nncon- 
scions  and  spontaneous  origination. 

But  when  fear  has  been  overcome  so  that  the  s|»('aker 
is  not  afraid  to  use  his  hands,  he  needs  to  enter  uj)()n  a 
determined  and  comprehensive  campaign  against  bad 
habits.  If  anything  is  truly  natural — that  is,  true  to 
the  higher  or  universal  nature — it  will  be  beautiful;  but 
early  examples  are  so  often  ^vr(>ng  and  corrupting  that 
it  is  hard  to  say  what  nature  is:  Nature  may  be  a  bad 
nature — the  reflection  of  all  that  is  low  and  sordid  as 
well  as  that  which  is  high  and  ennobling.  That  nature 
whicli  is  in  harmony  with  the  sum  of  all  things,  which 
is  the  image  of  the  Creator's  perfectness,  must  be  right 
and  good;  l)ut  we  must  not  too  hastily  conclude  that  any 
habits  of  our  own  have  this  high  and  un(|Ucslioiiable 
source.  Hardly  a  speaker  lives  who  does  not  at  some 
time  fall  into  unsightly  or  ridiculous  habits.  The  dif- 
,  ference  between  men  in  this  respect  is  that  some  steadily 
accunudate  all  the  foults  they  ever  have  contracted,  until 
tlie  result  is  most  repulsive;  while  (tlicrs,  from  the  wr.rn- 
ings  of  friends  or  their  own  observation,  discover  their 
errors  and  cast  them  off. 

A  mode  by  which  the  solitary  student  may  become 


124  EXTEMPOEE    SPEECH. 

acquainted  ^^  itli  his  faults,  and  from  which  he  should  not 
■be  driven  by  foolish  ridicule,  is  by  declaiming  in  as 
natural  and  forcible  a  manner  as  possible  before  a  large 
mirror.  Thus  we  may  "  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us." 
Repeated  practice  in  this  manner  will  enable  you  to  keep 
the  necessary  watch  upon  your  motions,  Avithout  so  nuicli 
distracting  attention  as  to  make  the  exendse  before  the 
glass  no  trustworthy  specimen  of  ordinary  habits.  In 
speaking,  you  hear  your  own  voice  and  thus  become  sen- 
sible of  audible  errors,  but  the  glass  is  required  to  show 
improper  movements  that  may  have  been  unconsciously 
contracted.  It  is  not  advised  that  each  speech,  before 
delivery,  should  be  practiced  in  front  of  the  mirror.  It 
is  doubtful  if  such  practice  would  not  cherish  a  self- 
consciousness  worse  than  all  the  errors  it  corrected.  But 
the  same  objection  would  not  ap}>ly  to  occasional  decla- 
mations made  for  the  very  purpose  of  self-criticism. 

By  these  two  processes — pressing  out  into  action  as 
freely  as  possible  under  the  impulse  of  deep  feeling,  and 
by  lopping  off  everything  that  is  not  graceful  and  ef- 
fective— we  may  soon  attain  a  good  style  of  gesture. 
When  the  habit  of  suiting  the  action  to  the  word  is  once 
fully  formed,  all  anxiety  on  that  srbject  may  be  dis- 
missed.    The  best  gesticulation  is  entirely  unconscious. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Confidence. 

How  m;iy  that  boldness  and  confidence  whicli  is  indis- 
pensable to  an  orator  best  ho  accjuired?  On  your  success 
in  this  direction,  hinges  all  other  kinds  of  improvement. 
So  long  as  a  nervous  dread  hangs  about  you,  it  ^vill  make 
the  practice  of  extemporaneous  speech  painful  and  repul- 
sive, paralyzing  all  your  faculties  in  the  moment  of 
utterance. 

You  must  acquire  confidence  in  your  own  powers 
and  be  willing  to  trust  to  their  guidance. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  that  you  should  exhibit  or 
even  feel  this  confidence  at  the  beginning  of  a  speech,  for 
it  may  then  ap})ear  like  boastfuluess  or  egotisui.  It  is 
enough  if  you  then  have  confidence  in  your  subject,  and 
in  the  fullness  of  your  preparation.  You  may  then  with- 
out injury  wish  that  some  one,  that  you  imagine  more 
worthy,  stood  in  youi-  place.  Rut  if  this  feeling  con- 
tinues all  through  the  address,  failure  is  inevital)le.  Many 
•a  man  begins  while  trembling  in  every  limb,  especially 
if  the  occasion  be  of  nu usual  character,  but  soon  becomes 
inspired  with  his  theme  aud  forgets  all  anxiety.  If  yoiu' 
fear  be  greater  and  more  persistent,  keeping  you  in  per- 
petual terror,  it  will  destrov  all  liberty  and  eloquence. 

125 


12G  -  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

When  laboring  undersuch  an  influence,  you  lose  self-pos 
session,  become  confused,  all  interest  evaporates  from  your 
most  carefully  prepared  thoughts,  and  you  sit  down  at 
length,  convinced  that  you  have  foiled.  It  is  but  little 
conr^olation  to  believe  that  you  had  all  the  time  in  your 
brain  the  necessary  power  and  material  to  achieve  splen- 
did success,  if  you  had  but  possessed  the  courage  to  use  it 
aright. 

There  is  no  remedy  for  fear  more  effectual  than  to  do 
all  our  Avork  under  the  immediate  inajjiration  of  duty. 
This  feeling  is  not  the  privilege  of  the  minister  alone, 
but  of  each  one  who  is  conscious  that  he  occupies  the  place 
where  he  stands  because  it  is  his  right  to  be  there,  be- 
cause he  has  some  information  to  give,  some  cause  to 
advocate,  or  some  important  task  to  do.  With  such 
consciousness  we  can  speak  our  best,  and  finish  Avith 
the  satisfaction  of  having  done  our  work  as  truly  as  if 
we  had  performed  duty  placed  upon  us  in  any  other 
department  of  labor.  But  if  we  aim  simply  at  making 
an  exhibition  of  self  and  of  showing  our  own  skill  and 
eloquence,  then  the  smiles  and  frowns  of  the  audience 
becomes  a  matter  of  overwhelming  importance,  and  if 
we  fail  we  are  deeply  mortified  and  bewail  our  foolish- 
ness in  exposing  ourselves  to  such  needless  risk. 

The  lack  of  proper  confidence  is  the  great  reason  for 
using  manuscript  in  the  moment  of  speech.  The  speaker 
makes  one  effort  to  extemporize  and  fails.     This  is  not 


CONFIDENCE.  127 

wonderful,  for  the  path  to  success  usually  lies  through 
iiiilure  from  the  time  that  we  master  the  wonderful  art 
of  walking  through  many  failures;  but  instead  of  copying 
the  school-boy  motto,  "try,  try  again,"  and  reaping  wis- 
dom and  experience  from  past  efforts,  he  loses  all  hope — 
concludes  that  he  is  disqualifietl  for  that  kind  of  work, 
and  thus  sinks  to  mediocrity  and  tameness,  when  he 
might  have  been  brilliant  in  the  fields  of  true  oratory. 

The  exhibition  of  confidence  and  resolution  by  the 
speaker  is  a  draft  drawn  on  the  respect  of  an  audience 
which  is  nearly  always  honored,  while  the  opposite 
(pialities  hide  the  possession  of  real  talent.  Hearers 
readily  pardon  timidity  at  the  beginning  of  an  address, 
for  then  attention  is  fixcil  upon  the  speaker  himself,  and 
his  shrinking  seems  a  graceful  exhibition  of  modesty. 
But  when  he  has  fully  placed  his  subject  before  them 
they  associate  him  with  it.  If  he  is  dignified  and 
assured,  they  listen  in  pleased  attention  and  acknowledge 
the  weight  of  his  words.  These  qualities  are  very  dif- 
ferent from  bluster  and  bravado,  which  injure  the  cause 
advocated  and  excite  disgust  toward  the  speaker.  The 
first  appears  to  arise  from  a  sense  of  the  dignity  of  the 
subject ;  the  second,  from  an  assumption  of  personal 
superiority — an  opinion  no  speaker  has  a  right  to  enter- 
tain, for  in  the  very  act  of  addressing  an  audience  he 
constitutes  them  his  judges. 

An  orator  needs  confidence  in  his  own  powers  in  order 


128  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

to  avail  himself  fully  of  the  suggestions  of  the  momient. 
Some  of  the  best  thoughts  he  will  ever  think  flash  upon 
him  while  speaking,  and  are  out  of  the  line  of  his  prep- 
aration. There  is  no  time  to  carefully  weigh  them.  He 
must  reject  them  immediately  or  begin  to  follow,  not 
knowing  whither  they  lead,  and  this  in  audible  words, 
with  the  risk  that  he  may  be  landed  in  some  absurdity. 
He  cannot  pause  for  a  moment,  as  the  least  hesitation 
breaks  the  spell  he  has  woven  around  his  hearers,  while 
if  he  rejects  the  offered  idea  he  may  lose  a  genuine  inspi- 
ration. One  searching  glance  that  will  not  allow  time 
for  his  own  feelings  or  those  of  his  auditors  to  cool,  and 
then — decision  to  reject,  or  to  follow  the  new  track  with 
the  same  assurance  as  if  the  end  Avere  clearly  in  view — 
this  is  all  that  is  possible.  It  requires  some  boldness  to 
pursue  the  latter  course,  and  yet  every  speaker  knows 
that  his  highest  efforts — efforts  that  have  seemed  beyond 
his  normal  power,  and  which  have  done  more  in  a 
minute  to  gain  the  object  for  Avhieh  he  spoke  than  all 
the  remainder  of  the  discourse — have  been  of  this 
character. 

It  also  requires  a  good  degree  of  confidence  to  firmly 
begin  a  sentence,  even  when  the  general  idea  is  plain, 
without  knowing  just  how  it  will  end.  This  difficulty 
is  experienced  sometimes  even  by  the  most  fluent.  A 
'man  may  learn  to  cast  sentences  very  rapidly,  l)ut  it  will 
take  a  little  time  to  pass  them  through  his  mind,  and 


COXFIDEXCE.  129 

when  one  is  finished,  the  next  may  not  yet  have  fully 
condensed  itself  into  Avords.  To  begin  to  utter  a  partially 
constructed  sentence,  uncertain  liow  it  will  end,  and  ])ress 
on  without  letting  the  people  sec  any  hesitation,  demands 
no  small  confidence  in  one's  power  of  conmianding  words 
and  framing  sentences.  Yet  a  bold  and  confident  s])("aker 
need  feel  no  uneasiness.  He  may  prolong  a  pause  while 
he  is  thinking  of  a  needed  word,  or  throw  in  something 
extraneous  to  fill  up  the  time  till  the  right  term  and  con- 
struction are  fi)und.  Yet  the  perfect  remedy  for  these 
dangers  is  to  learn  tne  difficult  art  of  standing  before  an 
audience  with  nothing  to  say  and  making  the  pause  as 
effective  as  any  phase  of  speech.  This  can  l)o  done,  dan- 
gerous as  it  seems.  It  does  require  far  more  of  courage 
to  face  an  audience  when  the  mouth  is  empty  than  when 
we  are  talking  ;  the  mettle  of  troo])s  is  never  so  severely 
tried  as  M'hen  their  cartridge-boxes  are  emptv;  but  all 
the  resources  of  eloquence  are  not  at  command  until  this 
test  can  be  calmly  and  successfully  enduretl.  An  eminent 
speaker  once  said  to  a  friend  after  a  very  successful 
effort,  "  What  part  of  the  address  you  have  been  ]irais- 
ing  most  impressed  you  ?"  "  It  was  not  anything  you 
said"  was  the  reply,  "  but  the  thrilling  pause  you  made 
of  nearly  half  a  minute  after  a  bold  assertion,  as  if  you 
were  challenging  any  one  to  rise  and  deny  what  you  had 
asserted."  "  Oh  !  I  remember,"  returned  the  other ;  "  I 
could  not  get  the  next  sentence  fixed  quite  right,  and  Mas 


130  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

fully  determined  not  to  say  it  at  all  unless  it  came  into 
the  proper  shape." 

This  necessary  confidence  can  be  cultivated  by  striving 
to  exercise  it,  and  by  assuming  its  appearance  where  the 
reality  is  not.  The  raw  recruit  is  transformed  into  a 
veteran  soldier  by  meeting  and  overcoming  danger.  All 
the  drill  in  the  world  will  not  supply  the  want  of  actual 
experience  on  the  battle-field.  So  the  extempore  speaker 
must  make  up  his  mind  to  accept  all  the  risk,  and 
patiently  endure  all  the  failures  and  perils  that  result. 
If  he  fully  decides  that  the  reward  is  A^'orthy  of  the 
eifort  he  will  be  greatly  aided  in  the  attempt,  as  he  will 
thus  avoid  the  wavering  and  shrinking  and  questioning 
that  would  otherwise  distress  him  and  paralyze  his  pow- 
ers. A  failure  will  but  lead  to  stronger  and  more  per- 
sistent effort,  made  with  added  experience.  Success  will 
be  an  argument  for  future  confidence,  and  thus  any 
result  will  forward  him  on  his  course. 

In  regard  to  the  difficulty  of  framing  sentences  in 
the  moment  of  utterance,  the  experienced  speaker  will 
become  so  expert,  having  found  his  way  through  so 
many  difficulties  of  that  kind,  that  the  greatest  danger 
experienced  will  be  that  of  carelessly  allowing  his  words 
to  flow  on  without  unity  or  polish.  It  does  require  a 
determined  effort,  not  merely  to  express  meaning,  but  to 
pack  and  compress  the  greatest  possible  amount  into 
striking  and  crystalline  words.     Experience  also  gives 


CONFIDENCE.  131 

him  such  a  knowledge  of  the  working  of  his  own 
thouglits  that  he  will  be  able  to  decide  at  the  first  sug- 
gestion what  unbidden  ideas  should  be  accepted  and  what 
ones  should  be  rejected.  If  these  new  thoughts,  how- 
ever far  outside  of  his  preparation,  seem  worthy,  lie  will 
give  them  instant  expression;  if  not,  he  will  dismiss 
them  and  continue  unchecked  alono;  his  intended  route. 

It  is  hoped  that  the  reading  of  this  treatise  will  in- 
crease the  confidence  of  extempore  speakers  in  two  ^vays; 
first,  by  producing  in  the  mind  of  each  one  perfect  con- 
viction that  for  him  the  better  way  is  to  adopt  unwritten 
speech  without  reserve;  and  second,  by  pointing  out  a 
mode  of  preparation  which  will  give  as  good  ground  for 
confidence  as  a  fully  written  manuscript  could  possibly 
supply.  To  gain  confidence  which  is  not  warranted  by 
the  event  would  only  provoke  a  hurtful  reaction ;  but 
confidence  which  is  justified  by  experience  grows  ever 
stronger. 

We  have  thus  glanced  at  a  few  of  the  qualities  which 
need  to  be  cultivated  and  strengthened  for  the  purposes 
of  public  speech.  The  survey  does  not  cover  the  whole 
.field  of  desirable  qualities,  for  this  would  be  to  give  a 
treatise  on  general  education.  Perfect  speech  requires 
every  faculty  of  the  mind  to  be  brought  to  the  highest 
state  of  efficiency.  There  is  no  mental  power  which  will 
not  contribute  to  success.  The  whole  limits  of  possible 
education  are  comprised  in  the  two  branches  already  men- 


132  EXTEMPORE    SrEECH. 

tioned  as  concerning  the  orator — those  relating  to  the 
reception  of  knowledge  and  those  to  its  communication. 
The  harmonious  combination  and  perfect  development 
of  these  two  is  the  ideal  of  excellence — an  ideal  so  higli 
that  it  can  only  be  approached.  All  knowledge  is  of  use 
to  the  orator.  He  may  not  have  occasion  to  employ  it 
in  a  particular  speech,  but  it  contributes  to  give  certainty, 
breadth,  and  scope  to  his  views,  and  assures  him  that 
what  he  does  put  into  his  speeches  is  the  best  that  can 
be  selected.  If  he  is  ignorant,  he  is  obliged  to  use  for  a 
discourse  on  any  subject  not  that  material  Avhicli  is  the 
best  in  itself,  but  simply  the  best  that  may  happen  to  be 
known  to  him,  and  he  cannot  be  sure  that  something  far 
more  suitable  is  not  overlooked. 

The  communicating  faculties  are,  if  possible,  still  more 
important.  A  great  part  of  the  value  even  of  a  diamond 
depends  upon  its  polish  and  setting,  and  the  richest  and 
wisest  thoughts  fail  to  reach  the  heart  or  captivate  the 
intellect  unless  they  are  cast  into  the  proper  form,  and 
given  external  beauty. 

Let  the  speaker,  then,  have  no  fear  of  knowing  too 
much.  Neither  need  he  despair  if  he  does  not  now  know 
a  great  deal.  He  cannot  be  perfect  at  once,  but  must 
build  for  future  years.  If  he  wishes  a  sudden  and  local 
celebrity  that  will  never  widen,  but  will  probably  moldcr 
away  even  in  his  own  lifetime,  he  may  possibly  gain  it  in 
another  way.     Let  him  learn  a  few  of  the  externals  of  elo- 


CONFIDENCE.  133 

cution,  and  then,  with  great  care,  or  by  the  free  use  of  the 
materials  of  others,  prepare  a  few  finely  worded  dis- 
courses, and  recite  or  declaim  them  over  and  over  again 
as  often  as  he  can  find  a  new  audience.  lie  may  n(jt 
gain  as  much  applause  as  he  desires  by  this  method, 
but  it  will  be  sufficiently  evanescent.  He  will  not  grow 
up  to  the  measure  of  real  greatness,  but  become  daily 
more  dwarfed  and  stereotyped  in  intellect. 

The  following  quotation  contains  a  good  example  of 
the  seductive  but  misleading  methods  sometimes  held  up 
before  the  young  orator :    "  They  talk,"  said  Tom  Mar- 
shall to  an  intimate   friend,  "  of  my  astonishing  bursts 
of  eloquence,  and  doubtless  imagine  it  is  my  genius  bub- 
bling over.     It  is  nothing  of  the  sort,     I'll  tell  you  how 
I  do  it:    I  select  a  subject  and  study  it  from  the  ground 
up.     When  I  have  mastered   it  fully,  I  write  a  speech 
on  it.     Then  I  take  a  walk  and  come  back,  and   revise 
and   correct.     In  a  few  days   I  subject  it  to  another 
pruning,  and  then  recopy  it.     Next  I  add  the  finishing 
touches,  round  it  off  with  graceful   jjcriods,  and  coiinnit 
it  to  memory.     Then   I   speak   it    in   the  fields,  in   my 
•father's  lawn,  and  before  my  mirror,  until  gesture  and 
delivery  are  perfect.     It  sometimes  takes  me  six  Aveeks 
or  two  months  to  get  up  a  speech.     AMien  I  am  ])re])ared 
I  come  to  town.     I  generally  select  a  court  day,  when 
there  is  sure  to  be  a  crowd.     I  am  called  on  for  a  speech, 
and  am  permitted  to  select  ni}-  own  subject.     I  speak  my 


134  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

piece.  It  astonishes  the  2:)eople,  as  I  intended  it  should, 
and  they  go  away  marveling  at  my  power  of  oratory. 
They  call  it  genius,  but  it  is  the  hardest  kind  of  w^ork." 

No  objection  is  made  to  the  quantity  of  work  thus 
described,  but  might  not  the  same  amount  be  expended 
in  more  profitable  directions  ?  A  speech  thus  prepared 
was  a  mere  trick  intended  to  astonish  the  people.  Some- 
times the  great  Daniel  Webster  took  equal  pains  in  the 
verbal  expression  of  some  worthy  thought,  wdiicli  was 
afterward  held  in  the  grasp  of  a  powerful  memory  until 
a  iitting  place  was  found  for  it  in  some  masteirly  speech. 
The  diiference  between  tlie  two  processes  is  greater  than 
seems  at  first  glance.  Marshall's  plan  was  like  a  beau- 
tiful garment  thrown  over  a  clothes  dummy  in  a  shop 
wandow ;  Webster's,  like  the  same  garment,  Avorn  for 
comfort  and  ornament  by  a  living  man. 

It  is  better  that  the  speaker  should  ''  intermeddle  with 
all  knowledge,"  and  make  the  means  of  communicating 
his  thoughts  as  perfect  as  possible.  Then  out  of  the 
fullness  of  his  treasure,  let  him  talk  to  the  people  with 
an  adequate  purpose  in  view,  and  if  no  sudden  acclaim 
greets  him,  he  will  be  weighty  and  influential  from  the 
first,  and  each  passing  year  ^\  ill  add  to  his  power. 


CHAPTER  YII. 
Peculiarities  Belonging  to  the  Various  Fields 

OF    ORATOliY. 

The  laws  which  govern  extenijioraneous  speech  are  so 
generally  applicable  to  all  i'unu^  of  addi-ess  tliat  only  a 
few  things  Avhich  are  peculiar  to  each  need  be  consickrecl 
before  pointing  out  the  best  modes  of  planning  and  de- 
livering a  speech. 

Probably  a  sermon  differs  from  the  common  tvpe  of 
speech  more  than  any  othei-  form  of  address.  Some  of 
the  distinctions  usually  made  arc  ])urely  conventional, 
and  not  a  few  are  more  honoi'ed  in  the  breach  than  in 
the  observance.  A  certain  slowness  and  stiffness  of 
manner  is  supposed  to  characterize  the  pulpit,  and  also 
the  selection  of  grave  and  solcnni  tones.  All  these,  so 
far  as  they  tend  to  constitute  ministers  a  class  apart  from 
other  men,  with  manners  and  modes  of  speech  peculiar  to 
themselves,  are  a  mere  survival  of  ancient  superstition. 
The  preacher's  tone  and  address  should  be  just  such  as 
any  other  competent  speaker  would  employ  in  treating 
the  same  themes.  Of  course,  when  the  preacher  makes  a 
solemn  appeal,  voice  and  action  should  all  correspond  in 
solemnity.  But  when  he  denounces  sin,  or  holds  vice  up 
to  ridicule,  there  should  be  an  equal  correspondence.    In 

135 


136  EXTEMPORE   SPEECH. 

some  deuomiuations,  a  peculiar  dress  i.s  given  to  tho 
preacher  as  the  garb  of  his  office ;  and  it  may  be  that  a 
peculiar  manner  will  be  grateful  to  those  who  love  all 
things  that  have  the  flavor  of  antiquity.  But  all  such 
mannerisms  belong  to  another  realm  tlian  that  of 
eloquence.  From  the  orator's  stanilpoint  they  can  only 
be  condemned.  Let  the  preacher  speak  and  act  like  any 
other  educated  gentleman,  under  like  circumstances,  and 
his  power  over  his  audiences  will  be  the  greater. 

But  the  sermon  possesses  some  real  distinctions  of 
importance.  The  custom  of  taking  a  text  furnishes  a 
point  of  departure  to  the  preacher  and  greatly  simplifies 
the  work  of  introduction.  The  opening  services  in  the 
church — the  prayers  and  the  music — put  his  audience 
into  a  mood  to  receive  his  words.  They  are  calm  and 
"quiet  when  he  begins  to  speak — indeed,  this  may  easily 
go  too  far.  Another  peculiarity  is  that  he  has  the  whole 
field  to  himself:  neither  he  nor  his  auditors'  expect  a 
word  or  gesture  of  dissent  from  anv  position  he  may 
assume:  all  the  criticisms  of  his  hearers  will  be  mental, 
or  reserved  to  another  occasion.  In  this,  his  position  is 
diametrically  opposed  to  that  of  the  lawyer,  and  the  poli- 
tician, who  expect  all  they  say  to  be  contradicted,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  are  apt  to  acquire  the  fault  of 
uttering  self-evident  truths  in  a  combative  manner,  as  if 
they  expected  the  other  side  to  deny  even  that  the  whole 
is  greater  than  any  of  its  jiarts,  oi-  that  tilings  each 


PECULIARITIES.  137 

equal  to  another  thing,  are  equal  to  each  other.  The 
preacher,  on  the  other  hantl,  is  liable  to  utter  propositions, 
which  to  many  of  his  hearers  are  very  doubtful,  as  if 
they  were  axioms. 

The  preacher  should  select  a  text  which  fairly  covers 
the  subject  of  his  discourse  or  contributes  to  advance  the 
object  he  has  in  view.  The  text  should  always  be 
employed  in  its  true  sense.  It  partakes  of  the  nature 
of  a  quotation  by  which  the  speaker  fortifies  his  position, 
and  all  quotations  should  bear  tiie  metming  intended  by 
their  authors,  as  far  as  that  meaning  can  be  ascertainal. 
This  is  required  by  common  fairness,  and  the  Bible  is 
surely  entitled  to  fair  treatment  as  much  as  any  other 
book.  Generally  the  text  should  be  read  and  treated  as 
a  part  of  the  introduction,  ahliough  some  fine  sermons 
have  been  constructal  on  the  opposite  principle  of  begin- 
ning far  from  the  text  and  so  leading  up  to  it,  that  its 
perfect  illustration  or  application  only  appears  in  the 
conclusion.  Xo  fault  can  be  found  with  this  method  if 
conscientiously  adoptal  and  consistently  carried  out. 

The  great  aim  of  preaching  is  persuasion,  and  this 
'must  largely  influence  its  whole  character.  It  is  from 
this  cause  that  emotion — ever  the  most  valuable  agent 
in  persuasion — is  so  highly  valued  in  the  pulpit.  The 
hearers  are  to  be  persuaded,  first  to  embrace  a  religious 
life,  and  then  to  cultivate  all  those  virtues  and  avoid  all 
those  evils  incident  to  such  a  life.     It  may  l)e  ]iro]M'r  lo 


138  EXTEMPOEE    SPEECH. 

devote  some  time  and  attention  to  mere  instruction,  but 
that  instruction  derives  all  its  value  from  its  bearing 
upon  action:  it  should  be  given  as  the  means  of  ren- 
dering persuasion  more  eifective.  Warning,  reproof, 
exhortation,  consolation,  promise — the  whole  field  of 
motives  and  inducements — is  very  wide;  but  the  great 
object  is  to  make  men  better,  and  only  incidentally  to 
make  them  wiser  or  happier. 

This  peculiar  character  of  preaching  renders  adherence 
to  extemporaneous  speech  in  the  pul])it  at  once  more 
important  and  more  difficult  than  anywhere  else.  The 
quiet  of  the  church,  its  solemnity,  the  fact  that  the 
preacher  must  speak  at  a  given  time  and  has  thus 
the  opportunity  to  write,  and  tliat  a  good  sermon  deal- 
ing with  truths  always  ap])licable  may,  when  once  writ- 
ten, be  read  to  many  successive  congregations,  even  after 
an  interval  of  years ; — the  fear  of  jarring  upon  the  asso- 
ciations of  the  church  with  any  rude  sentence  or  un- 
polished paragraph  thrown  off  in  the  hurry  of  speech : 
— all  these  considerations  powerfully  plead  for  the  manu- 
script. Yet  in  hardly  any  other  form  of  address  is  the 
manuscript  so  hurtful.  Extemporaneous  speech  is  pre- 
eminently the  persuasive  form  of  address,  and  persuasion 
is  the  great  object  of  the  sermon.  If  the  preacher  ceases 
to  be  persuasive  he  may  as  well  cease  to  preach,  so  far  as 
the  accomplishment  of  the  true  function  of  his  office  is 
concerned.     The  mode  pointecl  out  in  the  following  part 


PECULIARITIES.  139 

of  this  work  will,  it  is  believed,  enable  the  extemporane- 
ous preacher  to  utilize  all  the  persuasiveness  that  belongs 
to  his  character,  and  at  the  same  time  escape  all  the  dan- 
gers which  have  dri\'en  so  many  preachers  to  manuscript. 
The  conditions  under  which  la^vvers  speak  are  very 
different.  They  are  tempted  by  the  surroundings  of  the 
court-room  to  set  too  low  a  value  upon  the  graces  of 
oratory,  while  the  accomplishment  of  an  immediate  pur- 
pose engrosses  their  attention.  The  judge  and  jury  are 
before  them — a  client  is  to  be  made  victorious,  or  a 
criminal  to  be  punished.  Keen  interest  and  emotion  are 
supplied  by  the  occasion  itself.  The  law  nnist  be  ex- 
plained, the  facts  elicited  and  weighed,  and  the  jury  per- 
suaded. There  is  also  the  great  advantage  of  having  the 
case  decided  at  a  definite  time.  No  disposition  exists  on 
the  part  of  the  jury  to  postponement.  If  the  lawyer 
once  convinces  them  that  law  and  evidence  are  on  his 
side,  the  verdict  follows  as  a  matter  of  course.  But 
when  the  preacher  gets  that  far  he  has  scarcely  begun. 
His  hearers  may  admit  the  truth  of  every  word  lie 
speaks  and  the  goodness  of  the  course  he  advises,  but 
.they  can  comply  with  his  advice  at  any  time,  and  in  that 
feeling  they  may  postpone  their  action  for  years,  if  not 
})ermanently.  But  the  lawyer  can  jn-ess  his  case  on  to  a 
decision,  which  may  be  resisted  for  a  time  l)y  one  of  the 
parties,  but  not  by  the  jury  to  whom  he  addresses  his 
arguments,  and  seldom  by  the  judge. 


140  KXTE>[PORE    .SPEECH. 

Lawyers  have  Imt  littlf  t<iiij»t:iti(»ii  In  iii<liil.ir  in  writ- 
ten .speeches:  tlie  exij^eneies  of  the  irial  make  lunnal 
preparation  nt"  little  service.  The  ^jreat  talent  li>r  a 
lawyer's  purj)nse  is  that  fav(tre(l  l»y  e\teni|Mirane()ii.s 
.speech — the  power  of  a  dear,  orderly  statement  <»f'  facts 
that  are  often  exceed in<i:ly  complex.  This  generally 
proves  more  eifective  than  any  ariiiiment.  To  lirasj)  all 
the  evidence  that  has  l»e(.'n  l>n•^^ht  foi-ward,  and,  ]»iittini^ 
it  into  the  very  simplest  form  it  will  hear,  to  show  on 
that  statement  to  judge  and  jnry  that  he  is  entitled  to 
the  verdict — this  is  the  great  art  of  the  advocate,  lint 
his  .statement  mnst  include  or  account  for  all  the  facts ; 
otherwise,  he  lays  himself  open  to  an  easv  anil  damaging 
rej)ly.  The  method  usually  a(lo])ted  is  t(»  make  a  note 
of  each  fact  elicited,  each  argument  used  by  the  opposite 
attorney,  and  each  .salient-  point  of  the  case.  Then  the.se 
are  reduced  to  the  simplest  form,  an  appropriate  intro- 
duction sotight,  and  either  a  strong  argument,  or  an 
effective  summing  up,  reserved  for  the  conclusion.  With 
this-,  much  of  preparation  the  lawyer  finds  it  easy  to  pro- 
vide suitable  words  for  the  expression  of  the  whole  .speech. 

The  spea'li  of  the  judge  in  summing  uj)  or  charging 
the  jury  differs  only  from  that  of  the  advocate  in  the 
greater  impartiality  by  which  it  is  marked.  The  most 
fair-minded  attorney  will  be  biased,  more  or  less  un- 
consciously, by  the  greater  care  which  he  bestows  upon 
his  own  side  of  the  ca.se. 


PECULIARITIES.  141 

Amiiversaiy,  platlunii,  aiul  JycL'iim  krturi's  have 
nmch  in  common.  Entertainment  being  the  prominent 
nl>j('ct  in  tlu'Mi  all,  illiistratiuM  and  (•nil)ellishment  arc 
greatly  songlit  for.  Humor  is  also  in  most  eases 
liighly  enjoyetl.  The  same  address  may  be  rej)eatal 
many  times  and  eonies  to  have  the  finish  of"  a  work  of 
art.  The  great  eamp-meeting  sermtjns  at  seaside  resorts, 
at  anniversaries,  and  similar  occasions,  properly  belong 
to  this  class  rather  than  to  that  of  sermons.  This  is  the 
field  hi  which  memoriter  addresses  are  usually  su[)p()sed 
to  be  superior  to  all  others.  It  may  be  concedal  that 
whenever  form  rises  into'morc  prominence  than  matter, 
writing  and  memorizing  will  have  increasing  claims.  A 
speaker  who  wishes  to  rei)eat  one  sjieech  without  sub- 
stantial variation  to  a  hundred  audiences  will  not  find  it 
a  great  task  to  write  it  in  full  and  memorize  it.  But  if 
he  is  really  a  master  in  spontaneous  utterane(>  he  need 
not  de[>art  from  hi-  usual  coui'-e.  lie  can  fully  j>repare 
his  materials  and  then  sjteak  the  words  of  the  moment, 
without  the  least  fear  of  sutl'ering  in  comparison  with  the 
reciter. 

Instructive  addresses  by  teachers  and  ])rofess(»rs  are 
nearly  always  given  extempore,  with  the  exce|)tiou  of 
those  written  lectures  in  the  higher  institutions  which 
are  supposed  to  sum  up  the  residts  of  knowledge  in  their 
respective  departments.  Even  then  the  practice  i-  not 
uniform,  as    many   professors    prefl'r   talking   to    their 


142  p:xtkmi'oi{e   speech. 

pupils  rather  than  readhig  to  tlieni.  Tlie  practice  of 
reading  in  such  cases  is  really  a  survival  from  the  days 
when  books  were  scarce  and  high-priced,  and  the  student 
found  it  easier  to  write  notes  from  the  lips  of  some 
master  than  to  purchase  the  volumes  containing  th<same 
knowledge,  even  when  it  had  been  published  at  all.  l)Ut 
the  tendency  now  is  to  find  the  statement  of  the  facts 
of  science,  art,  and  literature  in  books,  and  depend  upon 
the  living  teacher  only  to  give  vividness,  life,  and  illus- 
tration to  them.  All  this  can  be  best  done  by  the  ex- 
tem})oraneous  method. 

Other  modes  of  speech  will  naturally  suggest  them- 
selves, but  they  present  nothing  peculiar  in  form.  All 
that  can  be  said  about  them  may  be  compressed  as  profit- 
ably into  the  general  topics  of  subject  and  rbj?-'f, 
thought-gathering,  arrangement,  and  use  of  the  p;ar., 
etc.,  which  occupy  the  following  pages. 


PART  III. 


Plan  and  Delivery  of  the  Speech 


CHAPTER  I. 

The  Pen  and  the  Tongue. 

It  does  not  follow  frotn  anything  we  have  said  Jliat 
the  pen  should  be  discarded  by  the  extcni])()rc  .speaker. 
Because  he  is  not  obliged  to  write  eacii  word,  lie  should 
not  feel  excused  from  writing  altogether.  Few  greater 
misfortunes  could  happen  to  a  sjicaker  than  being 
deprived  of  the  power  of  recording  and  preserving  notes 
for  the  purposes  of  oratory.  The  most  tenacious  mem- 
ory is  burdened  Iw  tlie  weight  of  a  large  number  ot 
intended  discourses,  especially  if  they  arc  long  and  com- 
plex. No  person  can  feel  sure  tiiat  he  will  remember 
all  parts  of  the  speech  he  intended  to  utter  even  in  out- 
line, unless  it  has  been  reduced  to  regular  form  so  that 
one  part  will  suggest  another.  In  going  to  a  store  to 
purchase  a  few  articles  the  pen  is  very  useful  in  making 
a  memorandum  ;  if  the  errand  boy  neglects  that  precau- 
tion some  of  the  most  essential  things  may  be  forgotten. 
Among  illiterate  people  a  great  many  mncMnonic  signs 
have  been  employed,  such  as  associating  things  to  be 
remembered  with  the  fingers,  etc. ;  but  among  intelligent 
persons  all  of  these  have  l)een  superse<led  by  the  use  of 
writing,  and  it  would  be  very  absurd  to  advocate  2 
return  to  the  old  modes  on   the  plea  tliat  the  memory 

145 


Ii6  EXTEMPORE  SPEECH. 

might  be  so  strengthenal  that  all  items  could  be  safely 
remembered.  The  reply  uould  be  ready  :  "  Yes,  it  is 
possible ;  but  wc  have  a  far  better  and  less  burdensome 
way  of  accomplishing  the  same  object  and  have  no 
motive  in  returning  to  the  more  difficult  mode."  Thus 
while  it  may  be  possible  to  arrange  in  the  mind  all  the 
outlines  of  a  long  discourse,  it  is  not  easy  to  do  it,  and 
there  is  no  gain  in  the  extra  labor  involved.  Everything 
bearing  upon  a  discourse  may  be  written  in  brief  outline, 
and  then  a  selection  made  of  what  is  best,  throwing  out 
all  other  portions.  The  remainder  can  then  be  far  bet- 
ter arranged  when  in  such  a  position  that  the  eye  as  well 
as  the  mind  can  glance  at  it.  The  preparation  for  the 
intended  speech  thus  assumes  the  shape  of  a  miniature 
or  outline,  and  may  be  filial  out  at  any  point  which 
needs  strengthening. 

But  even  if  it  v/ere  possible  to  construct  the  plan  and 
speak  well  without  any  previous  use  of  the  pen,  this 
would,  in  the  majority  of  cases,  be  insufficient.  The 
orator  needs  to  presers'e  the  materials,  if  not  the  form  of 
his  oration,  either  for  use  in  future  speeches  or  for  com- 
parison with  later  effiDrts.  It  is  very  wasteful  to  throw 
away  valuable  material  once  accumulated,  and  then 
search  the  same  ground  over  again  when  required  to 
treat  the  same  topic.  This  would  be  acting  in  the  spirit  of 
the  savage  who  eats  enough  to  satisfy  his  appetite  and 
throws  away  all  that  remains,  as  he  feels  no  further  need 


THE  PEX  AND  THE  TOXGUE.        147 

for  it,  aud  only  begins  to  gather  again  when  hunger 
spurs  him  to  exertion. 

Tlic  pen  is  the  instnniiciit  of  accumulation  and  pres- 
ervation, and  should  he  diligently  employed.  No  spt^aker 
can  rise  to  permanent  greatness  without  it.  The  in- 
stances given  to  the  contrary  are  mere  delusions  or 
evasions.  If  the  service  of  other  pens  can  be  em- 
ployed, as  in  the  case  of  short-hand  reporters  and 
amanuenses,  this  is  but  doing  the  same  thing  under 
another  form. 

The  principal  purpose  of  this  third  division  of  the 
work  is  to  show  how  the  pen  may  be  used  in  such  a 
manner  as  to  preserve  and  arrange  all  the  material  we 
may  gather,  elaborate,  or  originate  on  any  subject, 
so  as  to  bring  to  the  moment  of  unfettered  extempore 
speech  all  the  certainty  of  result  and  accumulated  power 
of  which  our  faculties  are  capable. 

Bacon  says  :  "  Heading  makes  a  full  man,  writing  an 
exact  man,  and  conference  a  ready  man."  All  these 
means  should  he  used  and  all  these  t|ualities  attained  by 
the  eloquent  speaker. 


CHAPTLR  II. 
Subject  axd  Object. 

We  now  enter  upon  the  most  practical  part  of  our 
subject.  We  have  seen  Avhat  natural  qualities  are  indis- 
pensable, and  how  these,  when  possessed,  can  be  improved 
by  training.  The  importance  of  a  Avide  scope  of  know  1- 
alge  bearing  upon  oratory,  and  of  understanding  and 
having  some  command  of  the  powers  of  language  has 
been  pointed  out.  When  a  man  has  all  of  these,  and  is 
still  a  diligent  student  growing  daily  in  knowledge,  he 
is  ready  to  consider  the  methods  by  which  all  his  gifts 
and  acquirements  may  be  concentrated  upon  a  single 
speech.  Some  of  the  directions  in  this  and  the  imme- 
diately succeeding  chapters  are  of  universal  application, 
w^hile  others  are  thrown  out  as  mere  suggestions  to  be 
modified  and  changed  according  to  individual  taste  or 
particular  circumstances. 

A  plan  is  necessary  for  every  kind  of  speech.  A  rude 
mass  of  brick,  lumber,  mortar,  and  iron,  thrown  together 
as  the  materials  chance  to  be  furnished,  does  not  consti- 
tute a  house  until  each  item  is  built  into  its  oavu  place 
according  to  some  intelligent  design.  A  speech  has  the 
same  need  of  orranization.  A  few  minutes  of  desultorv 
talk,  whether  uttered  in  a  low  or  high  voice,  to  one  per- 

148 


SUBJECT    AND    OBJECT.  149 

son  or  to  many,  does  not  make  a  speech.  The  talk  may  be 
good,  or  useful,  or  striking :  it  maybe  replete  with  spark- 
ling imagery,  and  full  of  valuable  ideas  that  connnand 
attention,  and  yet  be  no  real  discourse.  The  question, 
"What  was  all  this  about  ?  what  end  did  the  speaker  have 
in  view?"  is  a  fatal  condenniation.  The  subject  and 
object  of  every  discourse  should  be  perfectly  obvious — 
if  not  at  the  opening,  surely  at  the  close  of  the  address. 
The  only  safe  method  is  to  have  a  well-defined  plan 
marked  out  from  beginning  to  end,  and  then  to  bring 
every  part  of  the  work  into  subordination  to  one  leading 
idea.  The  plan  itself  should  be  constructed  with  some 
clear  object  in  view. 

It  is  better  that  this  ccmstruction  of  the  plan  should 
be  completed  before  delivery  begins.  If  you  are  sud- 
denly called  to  speak  on  some  topic  you  have  often 
thought  over,  the  whole  outline  of  the  address,  with  a 
plan  perfect  in  every  })art,  may  flasli  upon  you  in  a 
moment,  and  you  may  sj)eak  as  well  as  if  you  had  been 
allowed  months  for  prei)aration.  But  such  cases  arc  rare 
exceptions.  The  man  who  attempts,  on  the  spur  of  the 
moment,  to  arrange  his  facts,  draw  his  inferences,  and  en- 
force his  opinions,  will  usually  find  the  task  very  difficult, 
even  if  the  topic  is  within  his  mental  grasp,  and  liis  mem- 
ory promptly  furnishes  him  with  all  necessary  materials. 

AYe  will  now  consider  the  subject  and  object  which 
every  true  discourse,  whatever  its  character,  must  possess. 


150  EXTEMPORE    .SPEECH. 

First,  as  to  the  object :  why  is  it  that  at  a  parti(Milar 
time  au  audience  assembles  and  sits  in  silence,  while  one 
man  standing  up,  talks  to  them  ?  What  is  his  motive  in 
thus  claiming  their  attention  ?  Many  of  them  may  have 
come  from  mere  impulse,  of  which  they  could  give  no 
rational  explanation,  but  the  speaker  at  least  should  have 
a  definite  purpose. 

A  clear  aim  tends  powerfully  to  give  unity  and  con- 
sistency to  the  whole  discourse,  and  to  prevent  him  from 
wandering  into  endless  digressions.  It  binds  all  detached 
parts  together  and  infuses  a  common  life  through  his 
atldress.  Such  a  ruling  aim  cannot  be  too  definitely 
recognized  and  carefully  kept  in  view,  for  it  is  the  foun- 
dation of  the  whole  discourse. 

This  object  should  not  be  too  general  in  cliiiracter.  It 
is  not  enough  that  we  wish  to  please  or  to  do  good  :  it 
may  be  safely  assumed  that  speakers  generally  Avish  to 
do  both.  But  how  shall  tliese  ends  be  reached? 
"  What  special  good  do  I  hope  to  accomplish  by  this ' 
address  ?" 

When  you  have  made  the  object  definite,  you  are  bet- 
ter jjrepared  to  adapt  all  available  means  to  its  accom- 
plishment. It  should  also  be  stated  that  the  more 
objects  are  subdivided  the  more  precision  will  be  aug- 
mented, though  there  is  a  limit  beyond  which  such 
division  Avould  be  at  the  expense  of  other  qualities. 

Your  object  will  usually  have  reference  to  the  opinion 


SUBJECT    AND    OBJECT.  151 

or  the  action  of  tliose  addressed,  and  the  firmer  your 
own  conviction  of  the  truth  of  that  opinion,  or  the  desi- 
rableness of  that  action,  the  greater,  other  things  being 
ec(ual,  your  persuasive  power  will  be.  If  you  do  not 
know  exactly  what  you  wisli,  there  is  little  probability 
that  your  audience  will  care  to  interpret  your  thought; 
they  will  take  it  for  granted  that  you  really  mean  noth- 
ing, and  even  if  you  do  incidentally  present  some  truth 
supported  by  good  arguments,  they  Mill  consider  it  a  mat- 
ter not  calling  for  any  immediate  consideration  or  definite 
decision  on  their  })art. 

The  speaker's  objects  are  comparatively  few  and  are 
often  determined  by  his  very  position  and  employment. 
If  you  are  engaged  in  a  political  canvass  you  are  seek- 
ing to  confirm  and  retain  the  votes  of  your  own  party, 
while  persuading  over  to  your  side  the  opposition. 
Votes  constitute  the  object  you  seek,  and  to  win  them  is 
your  purpose.  But  there  are  many  ways  by  which  that 
desirable  end  may  be  accomplished — some  wise  and 
noble,  others  ignoble.  But  a  political  orator  will  gain 
in  power  by  keeping  clearly  in  view  his  purpose  and 
rejecting  from  his  speeches  all  things  that  merely  arouse 
and  embitter  opponents,  without,  at  the  same  time,  con- 
tributing to  strengthen  the  hold  of  the  speaker's  own 
party  upon  its  members. 

If  you  are  a  lawyer  you  wish  to  win  your  case.  The 
judge's  charge,  the  jury's  verdict,  are  your  objective  points, 


152  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

and  all  niore  display  which  doe>  iiut  fuiitribiitc  directly 
or  indirectly  to  these  ends  is  worse  than  wasted,  as  it  may 
even  interfere  with  yonr  real  piiijtose. 

JVIucli  of  your  success  will  depend  upon  kec])ini>-  the 
right  object  before  you  at  the  right  time.  If  you  aim 
at  that  which  is  unattainable,  the  effort  is  not  only  hjst, 
but  the  obiLft  which  you  could  have  reachwl  may  in  the 
meantime  have  j)assc<l  out  of  \  our  reach.  Everybody 
has  heard  ministers  arguing  against  some  forms  of  unbe- 
lief Avhicli  their  hearers  know  nothing  about.  This  is 
Avorse  than  useless ;  it  may  suggest  the  very  errors  in- 
tendetl  to  be  refuted  ;  and  if  this  does  not  residt,  to  think 
that  the  refutation  will  be  stt)rcd  up  until  the  time  when 
the  errors  themselves  may  be  encountered,  is  to  take  a 
most  flattering  view  of  the  length  of  time  during  which 
sermons  as  well  as  other  discourses  are  remendx'red. 
You  may  avoid  these  errors  by  sele(*ting  some  object 
which  is  practicable  at  the  moment  of  utterance :  the 
first  right  step  makes  all  after  success  possible. 

There  is  a  difference  between  the  object  of  a  s})eech 
and  its  subject ;  the  former  is  the  motive  that  impels  us 
to  speak,  while  the  latter  is  what  we  speak  about.  It  is 
not  uncommon  for  talkers  to  have  a  subject  without  any 
definite  object,  unless  it  be  the  very  general  one  of  com- 
])lying  with  a  form  or  fulfilling  an  engagement.  When 
the  period  for  the  talk  comes — it  would  not  be  right  to 
call  it  a  speech — they  take  the  easiest  subject  they  can 


SJUB.TECT    AND    OBJECT.  153 

find,  express  all  llie  i<lc:i.s  tlioy  happen  to  have  about 
it,  and  leave  the  matter.  Until  sueli  persons  beeome  in 
earnest,  and  get  a  living  object,  true  eloquence  is  utterly 
impossible. 

The  object  of  a  discourse  is  the  soul,  while  the  subject 
is  but  the  body ;  or,  as  we  may  say,  the  one  is  the  end, 
while  the  other  is  the  means  by  which  it  is  accomplished. 
A-fter  the  object  is  clearly  realized  by  the  speaker,  he  can 
choose  the  subject  to  much  better  advantage.  It  may 
happen  that  one  object  is  so  much  more  important  than 
all  other  practicable  ones  that  it  forces  itself  irresistibly 
on  his  attention  and  thus  saves  the  labor  of  choice ;  at 
other  times  he  may  have  several  different  objects  with 
uo  particular  reason  for  preferring  one  of  them  in  the 
order  of  time  to  another.  In  this  case  if  a  subject  iills 
his  mind  it  will  be  well  to  discuss  it  with  an  aim  toward 
the  objtvt  which  may  be  best  enforced  by  its  means. 

After  all,  it  makes  but  little  ditference  which  of  these 
two  is  chosen  first.  It  is  enough  that  when  you  under- 
take to  speak  you  have  a  subject  you  fully  understand, 
and  an  object  that  warms  your  heart  and  enlists  all  your 
powers.  You  can  then  speak,  not  as  one  who  deals  with 
abstractions,  but  as  having  a  living   mission  to  pcrloi-m. 

It  is  important  that  each  subject  should   be  complete 

in  itself,  and  rounded  off  from   everything   else.     Its 

•  boundaries   should   be   run  with    such   precision  as  to 

include  all  that  belongs  to  it,  but  nothing  more.     It  is  a 


154  EXTE^fPORE    SPEEOir. 

common  l>ut  grievous  fault  to  have  tlie  same  cast  of 
ideas  flowing  around  every  subject.  There  are  few 
thing's  in  the  universe  which  have  not  some  relation  to 
everything  else.  If  we  do  not,  therefore,  very  strictly 
bound  our  subject,  we  will  find  ourselves  bringing  the 
same  matter  into  each  discourse  and  perpetually  repeating 
our  thoughts.  If  ingenious  in  that  matter,  we  may  find 
a  good  excuse  for  getting  our  favorite  anecdotes  and 
brilliant  ideas  into  connection  with  the  most  opposite 
kinds  of  subjects.  An  old  minister  once  gave  me  an 
amusino;  account  of  the  manner  in  which  he  made  out- 
lines  of  the  sermons  of  a  local  celebrity.  Tiie  first  one 
was  a  very  able  discourse,  with  three  principal  divisions 
— man's  fallen  estate,  the  glorious  means  provi<K'd  for  his 
recovery,  and  the  fearful  consequences  of  neglecting 
those  means.  Liking  the  sermon  very  well,  my  infor- 
mant went  to  hear  the  same  man  again.  The  text  was 
new,  but  the  first  proposition,  was  man's  fallen  estate ; 
the  second,  the  glorious  means  provided  for  his  recovery ; 
and  the  last,  the  fearful  consequences  of  neglecting  those 
means.  Thinking  that  the  repetition  was  an  accident, 
another  trial  was  made.  The  text  was  at  as  jjreat  a 
remove  as  possible  from  the  other  two.  The  first  pro- 
position was,  mail's  fallen  estate  ;  and  the  others  followed 
in  due  order.  This  was  an  extreme  instance  of  a  com- 
mon fault,  which  is  by  no  means  confined  to  the  ministry. 
When  an  eloquent  Congressman  was  once  delivering  a 


RTTBJEOT    AND    OB.TEOT.  155 

great  address,  a  nieinl)C'r  on  the  opposite  benches  rubbed 
his  hands  in  apparently  ecstatic  delight,  and  remarked  in 
a  stage  whisper,  "  Oh  !  how  I  have  always  loved  to  hear 
that  speech  I"  In  a  book  of  widely  circulated  sermon 
sketches,  nearly  e\-ery  one  begins  by  asserting  that  man 
has  fallen  and  needs  the  helps  or  is  lial)le  to  the  evils 
mentioned  afterward.  No  doubt  this  primary  statement 
is  important,  but  it  might  sometimes  be  taken  for 
granted.  The  fault  which  we  have  here  pointed  out  is 
not  unconunoii  in  j)r('aching.  Occasionally  ministers 
acquire  such  a  stereotyped  form  of  expression  that  wliat 
they  say  in  one  sermon  is  sure  to  recur,  perha]>s  in  a 
modified  form,  in  all  others.  This  is  intolerable.  There 
is  an  end  to  the  patience  of  num.  He  tires  of  the  same 
old  ideas,  and  w  ishes,  when  a  new  text  is  taken,  that  it 
may  bring  with  it  some  novelty  in  the  sermon.  The 
remedy  against  the  evil  under  consideration  is  found  in 
the  careful  selection  and  definition  of  subjects.  Give  to 
each  its  own  territory  and  gnai'd  I'igidly  against  all  tres- 
]iasscrs.  A  speaker  should  not  only  sec  that  what  he 
savs  has  some  kind  of  c<jnnection  with  the  subject  in 
hand,  but  that  it  hasacloser  connection  with  that  subject 
than  any  other  he  may  bo  called  u})on  to  discuss  at  or 
near  the  same  time.  A  very  great  lecturer  ad\ertises  a 
number  of  lectur(;s  upon  topics  that  seem  to  be  totally 
■  independent.  Yet  all  the  lectures  are  but  one,  except  a 
few  paragraphs  in  the  introduction  of  each.     This    is 


156  EXTEMPOKE    SPEECH. 

really  a  less  fault  in  the  case  of  an  itineratinii;  lecturei 
than  ill  most  other  Ileitis  of  oratory,  as  the  same  j)eople 
hear  the  lecture  but  once.  Yet  even  then  the  false 
assumption  of  intellectual  riches  imjilied  in  the  numerous 
titles  cannot  be  justiHed. 

The  subject  should  be  so  well  defined  that  we  always 
know  just  what  we  are  speaking  about.  It  may  be  of 
a  general  nature,  but  our  knowledge  of  it  should  be  clear 
and  adequate.  This  is  more  necessary  in  an  extempore 
than  in  a  Avritten  speech,  though  the  want  of  it  will  be 
severely  felt  in  the  latter  also.  A  strong,  vividly  defined 
subject  will  give  unity  to  the  whole  discourse,  and  prob- 
ably leave  a  permanent  impnission  on  the  mind  of  the 
hearer.  To  aid  in  securing  this  it  will  be  well  to  reduce 
every  subject  to  its  simplest  form,  and  then,  by  writing 
it  as  a  compact  phrase  or  sentence,  stamp  it  on  the  mind, 
and  let  it  ring  in  every  utterance ;  that  is,  let  each  wonl 
akl  in  carrying  out  the  central  idea,  or  in  leading  uj)  to 
it.  Those  interminable  discourses  that  begin  anywhere 
and  lead  nowhere,  may  be  called  s})eeches  or  sermons,  by 
courtesy,  but  they  are  not  such. 

To  always  preserve  this  unity  of  theme  and  treat- 
ment is  not  easy,  and  calls,  often,  for  the  exercise  of 
heroic  self-denial.  To  see  in  the  mind's  eye  what  ^^•e 
know  would  please  and  delight  listeners,  ])ander  to  their 
prejudices,  or  gain  uproarious  applause,  and  then  turn 
away  with  the  words  unspoken,   merely   because  it  is 


SUBJECT    AM)    OBJECT.  157 

foreign  to  our  subjiK-t — tliis  is  as  wre  n  trial  as  for  a 
miser  on  a  sinking  ship  to  abandon  his  gcjkl.  But  it  is 
equally  necessary,  if  we  would  not  fill  into  grave  rhe- 
torical ernjrs.  Any  specrh  which  is  constructed  on  tlie 
[)lan  of  putting  into  it  all  the  wise  or  witty  or  pleasing- 
things  the  speaker  can  think  of  will  be  a  mere  mass  of 
more  or  less  foolish  talk.  Sliakespcare  is  often  re- 
|)r(>achcd  with  liaving  negleted  the  (h'amatic  unities  of 
place  and  time;  but  he  never  overlooked  tlie  higher 
unities  of  subject  and  object.  These  remarks  do  not 
imply  that  illustration  should  be  discarded  or  even  used 
sparingly.  The  whole  realm  of  nature  may  be  ransacked 
for  these  gems,  and  if  they  do  illustrate,  they  are  often 
better  than  statement  or  argument.  If  the  thing  to  be 
illustratwl  belongs  to  the  subject,  then  every  apt  illustra- 
tion of  it  also  belongs  there. 

It  is  possible  tiiat  men  of  genius  may  n(>glect  the  unity 
of  subject  and  (jbject,  and  still  succeed  by  sheer  intellec- 
tual force,  as  they  might  do  under  any  other  circum- 
stances. But  ordinary  men  cannot  with  safety  follow 
the  example  of  Sidney  Smith.  Ilis  liearers  complained 
that  he  did  not  "stick  to  his  text,"  and,  tiiat  he  might 
ret()rm  the  more  easily,  they  suggested  that  he  should 
tlivide  his  sermons  as  other  ministers  did.  He  promised 
to  gratify  them,  and  the  next  Sabbath,  after  reading  his 
text,  he  began:  "  AVe  will  divide  our  discourse  this 
moj'uing  into  three  parts :   in  the  first  place,  we  Avill  go 


158  EXTEMPOKE   SPEECH. 

up  to  our  text ;  in  tlie  second  place,  we  will  go  thronrfh 
it ;  and  in  the  third  place,  we  will  go  Jrom  it."  There 
was  general  agreement  that  he  succeeded  best  mi  the  last 
head,  l)Ut  preaciiers  who  arc  not  confident  ol"  p( isscs- iiig 
his  genius  had  better  confine  themselves  to  the  liti'mcr 
two. 

A  true  discourse  is  the  orderly  development  of  some 
one  thought  or  idea  with  so  much  clearness  and  |)o\vcr 
that  it  may  ever  after  live  as  a  point  of"  light  in  the 
memory.  ()ther  ideas  may  cluster  around  the  central 
one,  but  it  nuist  reign  supreme.  If  the  discourse  fails 
in  this  particular  nothing  else  can  rcHlcem  it.  Brilliancy 
of  thought  and  illustration  will  be  as  completely  wasted 
as  a  sculptor's  art  on  a  block  of  clay. 

A  man  of  profound  genius  once  arose  to  preach  before 
a  great  assemblage,  and  every  breath  was  hushed.  lie 
spoke  with  power,  and  many  of  his  passages  were  of 
thrilling  eloquence.  He  poured  forth  beautiful  images 
and  solemn  thoughts  with  the  utmost  profusion ;  yet 
when  at  the  end  of  an  hour  he  took  his  seat,  the  prevail- 
ing sentiment  was  one  of  disappointment.  The  address 
was  confused — utterly  destitute  of  any  point  of  union  to 
which  the  memory  could  cling.  Many  of  his  statements 
were  clear  and  impressive,  but  he  did  not  make  evidenii 
what  he  was  talking  about.  It  was  an  impressive 
warning  against  erecting  a  building  before  laying  a 
foundation. 


CHAPTER   III. 

Tii(»r(;nT-(;  ATI!  i;i;  I  N(i. 

After  the  suhjtvt  ujxni  which  we  are  to  speak  has  lx?en 
determined  the  logical  order  of  preparation  is,  first, 
gathering  material ;  second,  selecting  what  is  most  fitting 
and  arranging  the  whole  into  jxTfcct  order;  thii-d,  fixing 
this  in  the  mind  so  that  it  may  be  available  for  the 
moment  of  nse.  These  processes  are  not  always  sej>a- 
ratwl  in  practice,  but  they  may  be  iDest  considered  in  the 
order  indicated. 

When  a  subject  is  chosen  and  the  mind  fastenetl  upon 
it,  that  subject  becomes  a  center  of  attraction  and  natur- 
ally draws  all  kindred  ideas  toward  it.     Old  memories 
that  had  Ix^'ome  dim  from  the  lapse  of  time  are  slowly 
hunted   out   and   grouj)ed   antund    the   jiarent   thought. 
Each  hour  of  contemplation  that  elapses,  even  if  there 
is  not  direct  study,  adds  to  the  richness  and  variety  of 
our  available  mental  stores.     The  relations  between  dif- 
ferent and  widely  separatwl  truths  become  visible,  just  as 
new  stars  are  seen  mIicu  av(>  gaze  intently  t(jward  the 
evening  sky.      All  that  lies   within  our  knowledge  is 
subjected  to  a  rigid  scrutiny  and  all  that  appears  to  have 
any  connection  with  the  subjcK-t   is  brought   into  view. 
Usually  a  considerable  period  of  time  is  needed  for  this 

159 


160  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

process,  and  the  longer  it  is  continued  the  better,  if  in- 
terest in  the  sulyect  is  not  sii tiered  to  decline  in  the  mean- 
while. 

But  it  is  somewhat  difficult  to  continue  at  this  work 
long  enough  Avithout  weariness.  The  capacity  for  great 
and  continuous  reaches  of  thought  constitutes  a  princi- 
pal element  in  the  superiority  of  one  mind  over  another. 
Even  the  mightiest  genius  cannot,  at  a  single  impulse, 
exhaust  the  ocean  of  truth  that  opens  around  every 
object  of  man's  contemplation.  It  is  only  by  viewing  a 
subject  in  every  aspect  that  superficial  and  one-sided 
impressions  can  be  guarded  against.  But  the  contiiuious 
exertion  and  toil  this  implies  are  nearly  always  distaste- 
ful, and  the  majority  of  men  can  only  accomplish  it  by 
a  stern  resolve.  Whether  acquired  or  natural,  the 
ability  to  completely  "  think  out "  a  subject  is  of  prime 
necessity ;  the  young  student  at  the  outset  should  learn 
to  finish  every  investigation  he  begins  and  continue  the 
habit  during  life.  Doing  this  or  not  doing  it  will  gen- 
erally be  decisive  of  his  success  or  failure  from  an  intel- 
lectual point  of  view.  Thought  is  a  mighty  architect, 
and  if  you  keep  him  fully  employed,  he  will  build  up 
with  slow  and  measured  strokes  a  gorgeous  edifice  upon 
any  territory  at  all  within  your  mental  range.  You 
may  weary  of  his  labor  and  think  that  the  wall  rises  so 
slowly  that  it  will  never  be  completed ;  but  wait.  In 
due  time,  if  you  are  patient,  all  will  be  finished  and  will 


THOroiTT-fJATHKUIXfi.  IGl 

then  stand  as  no  ophemeral  stnictnro,  to  bo  swept  awav 
by  the  first  storm  that  blows,  but  will  be  established  and 
unshaken  on  tiie  basis  of  eternal  truth, 

M.  Bautain  compares  the  accuniiilation  of  thouoht 
around  a  subject  upon  which  the  mind  thus  dwells  with 
the  development  of  organic  life  l)v  continuous  growth 
from  an  almost  imperceptible  germ.  Striking  as  is  the 
analogy,  there  is  one  point  of  marked  dissimilarity. 
This  growth  of  thought  is  voluntary  and  may  easily  be 
arrested  at  any  stage.  The  introduction  of  a  new  sub- 
ject or  cessation  of  ef!()rt  on  the  old  is  fatal.  To  prevent 
this  and  keep  the  mind  employal  until  its  work  is  done 
requires  with  most  persons  a  regular  and  formal  system. 
Profoun<l  thinkers,  who  take  up  a  subject  and  cannot 
leave  it  until  it  is  traced  into  all  its  intricate  relations 
and  com})rehended  in  every  part,  and  who  have  at  the 
same  time  the  power  of  easily  recalling  long  trains  of 
thought  that  have  once  passed  through  their  mind,  have 
less  need  of  an  artificial  method,  Rnt  their  case  is  not 
tliat  of  the  majority  of  thinkers  or  speakers. 

We  will  give  a  method  found  useful  for  securing 
abundant  speech  materials,  and  allow  others  to  adopt  it 
as  far  as  it  may  prove  advantageous  to  them. 

The  things  we  actually  know  are  not  always  kc]>t 
equally  in  view.  Sometimes  we  may  sec  an  idea  witli 
great  clearness  and  after  a  time  lose  it  again,  while 
another,  at  first  invisible,  comes  into  sight.     Each  idea 


162  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

should  be  secured  when  it  occurs.  Let  each  thouy-ht 
that  arises  on  the  subject  you  intend  to  discuss  be  noted. 
A  word  or  a  brief  sentence  sufficient  t(t  recall  tlic  con- 
ception to  your  own  mind  will  be  enough,  and  no  labor 
need  be  expended  on  composition  or  expression.  After 
this  first  gathering,  let  the  paper  be  laid  aside  and  the 
subject  be  recommitted  to  the  mind  for  further  reflection. 
As  other  ideas  arise  let  them  be  nottnl  down  in  the  same 
manner  and  the  process  be  thus  continued  for  days 
together.  Sometimes  new  images  and  concc^ptions  will 
continue  to  float  into  the  mind  for  weeks.  INlost  jiersons 
who  have  not  tried  this  process  of  accumulation  will  be 
surprised  to  find  how  many  thoughts  they  have  on  the 
simplest  topic.  If  some  of  this  gathered  matter  remains 
vague  and  shadoAAy,  it  'will  only  be  necessary  to  give  it 
more  time  and  more  earnest  thought  and  all  obscurity 
Avill  vanish. 

At  last  there  comes  the  consciousness  that  the  mind's 
powTr  on  that  particular  theme  is  exhausted.  If  we 
also  feel  that  we  have  all  the  material  needed,  one  step 
further  only  remains  in  this  part  of  the  Avork ;  the  com- 
parison of  our  treasures  with  what  others  have  accom- 
plished in  the  same  field.  It  may  be  that  this  compari- 
son will  show  the  worthlessness  of  much  of  our  own 
material,  but  it  is  better  to  submit  to  the  humiliation 
involved  and  be  sure  that  we  have  the  best  that  can  be 
furnished  by  other  minds  as  well  as  our  own.     If  we 


THOUGHT-GATHERING.  1(33 

prefer,  we  may  speak  when  we  have  gathered  only  the 
materials  that  are  ah'eady  within  our  own  grasp  and 
thus  have  a  greater  consciousness  of  originality,  but 
sucli  consciousness  is  a  dehision  unless  based  upon 
exhaustive  research.  Nearly  all  that  we  thus  gather 
will  be  the  result  of  previous  reading,  and  almost  the 
only  thing  in  its  favor  over  the  fresli  accunnilatious  tliat 
we  make  by  reading  directly  in  the  line  of  our  sul)ject, 
is  the  probability  that  the  former  knowledge  will  be 
better  digested. 

But  more  free ^uently,  after  the;  young  orator  has  recol- 
lectiil  and  briefly  noted  all  that  bears  upon  his  subject 
Avitli  wliifli  hisdwn  mind  furnishes  him,  there  remains 
a  sense  oi"  iuc()mi)let('n('ss,  and  he  is  driven  to  seek  a 
further  supply,  lie  is  now  hungry  for  new  informa- 
tion, and  on  this  state  there  is  an  intellectual  blessing 
corresponding  to  the  moral  blessing  pronounced  upon 
those  who  hunger  and  thirst  alter  righteousness.  He 
reads  the  works  of  those  who  have  treated  the  same  or 
related  topics,  converses  witii  well-iiiformed  persons, 
observes  the  world  closely,  still  putting  down  every  new 
idea  that  seems  to  bear  upon  his  theme.  Whenever  an 
idea  is  found  wdiich  supplies  a  felt  want,  it  is  received 
with  great  joy.  It  often  happens  that  instead  of  finding 
the  verv  thing  sought  for  he  strikes  upon  the  first  link 
of  some  chain  of  thoughts  in  his  own  mind  that  leads  up 
to  what   he  desires,  but   has  hithert(j  overlooked.     The 


lO-i  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

new  idea  is  ouly  the  more  valued  when  it  has  thus  been 
traced  out. 

Now,  we  have  on  paper,  and  often  after  much  toil,  a 
niunber  of  confused,  unarranged  notes.  They  are  desti- 
tute of  polish,  and  no  more  constitute  a  speech  than  the 
piles  of  brick  and  lumber  a  builder  accumulates  consti- 
tute a  house.  Indeed,  this  comparison  is  too  favorable, 
for  the  builder  has  carefully  calculated  just  what  he 
needs  for  his  house,  and  has  ordered  those  very  things. 
But  usually  we  have  in  our  notes  much  that  can  be  of 
no  use,  and  at  Avhatever  sacrifice  of  feeling  it  must  be 
throAvn  out.  This  is  a  matter  of  great  importance.  It 
has  been  said  that  the  principal  difference  between  the 
conversation  of  a  wise  man  and  of  a  fool  is  that  the  one 
speaks  all  that  is  in  his  mind,  while  the  other  gives  utter- 
ance only  to  carefully  selected  thoughts.  Nearly  all 
men  have  at  times  ideas  that  would  please  and  profit  any 
audience ;  and  if  these  are  carefully  weeded  out  from  the 
puerilities  by  which  they  may  be  surrounded,  the  re- 
mainder will  be  far  more  valuable  than  the  whole  mass. 
Everything  not  in  harmony  with  the  controlling  object 
or  purpose  must  be  thro^vn  away  at  whatever  sacrifice 
of  feeling.  Read  carefully  your  scattered  notes  after  the 
fervor  of  pursuit  has  subsided  and  erase  every  phrase 
that  is  unfitting.  If  but  little  remains  you  can  continue 
the  search  as  at  first,  and  erase  and  search  again,  until 
you  have  all  that  you  need  of  matter  truly  relevant  to 


TFTOUGHT-OATHEPJXr;.  1 05 

the  subject.  Yet  it  is  not  well  to  be  over-fastidioiip. 
This  would  prevent  speech  altogether,  or  make  the  work 
of  preparation  so  slow  and  wearisome  that  when  the 
hour  of  effort  arrived,  all  fi-eshness  and  vigor  would  be 
gone.  A  knight  in  Spenser's  "  Faery  Queen  "  entered 
an  enchanted  castle  and  as  he  passed  through  eleven 
rooms  in  succession  he  saw  written  on  the  walls  of  each 
the  words/' Be  bold;"  but  on  the  twelfth  the  inscription 
changed  to  the  advice  of  equal  M'isdom,  "  15e  not  too 
bold."  The  same  injunctions  are  appropriate  to  the 
orator.  He  should  be  careful  in  the  selection  of  his 
material,  but  not  too  carel'iil.  Many  things  which  a 
finical  taste  might  reject  are  allowable  and  very  effective. 
No  definite  rule,  however,  can  be  given  on  the  subject, 
as  it  is  a  matter  of  taste  rather  than  of  calculation. 


CHAPTER  ly. 
Constructing  a  Plan. 

No  part  of  the  orator's  work  is  inure  imjxntant  than 
that  of  constructing  a  good  ])hin.  If  tliis  is  not  well 
done  the  fullest  success  is  impossible.  In  speech  all 
thoughts  are  expressed  In'  tlie  slow  process  of  successive 
words.  If  these  are  badly  chosen  and  so  arranged  as  to 
carry  for^vard  the  current  of  thought  in  the  wrong  direc- 
tion, almost  endless  hindrance  and  distraction  may  follows 
And  as  these  Avords,  in  extempore  speech,  are  given  forth 
on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  it  becomes  necessary  to  make 
such  an  arrangement  that  the  proper  idea  to  be  dissolved 
into  words  shall  always  Ije  presented  to  the  mind  at  the 
proper  time. 

In  some  cases  this  disposition  of  parts  is  very  easy. 
A  course  indicated  by  the  very  nature  of  the  subject  will 
sometimes  spring  into  view  and  relieve  us  of  all  further 
embarrassment.  A  lawyer  may  find  the  discussion  of 
the  testimony  of  each  of  several  A\itnesses,  together 
with  the  formal  opening  and  close,  to  be  all  the  plan 
that  he  needs.  But  more  frequently  this  portion  of 
the  orator's  task  will  both  require  and  repay  severe 
thought. 

Many  diiferent  kinds  of  plans  have  Ijeen  pointed  out 

166 


CONSTRUCTING    A    PLAN.  167 

by  preceding  writer.-,  but  Ave  will  indicate  those  only 
Avliicli  have  considerable  practical  importance. 

The  first  of  these  may  be  called  the  narratiye  method. 
It  is  most  frequently  used  when  the  recital  of  some  history 
forms  the  principal  part  of  the  discourse.  Certain  lead- 
ing events,  either  grouped  together  according  to  their 
nature  or  following  the  order  of  time,  furnish  the  primary 
divisions.  Tliis  kind  of  a  discourse  follows  the  same 
laws,  in  the  arrangement  of  the  different  parts,  as  his- 
tt)ries,  romances,  and  narrative  poems.  The  order  of 
time  is  the  most  obvious  method  of  constructing  it,  but 
this  order  should  not  be  adhered  to  when  the  story  can 
be  better  and  more  dramatically  told  by  vaiying  from 
it.  Both  introduction  and  conclusion  should  be  very 
carefully  selected — the  former  to  arouse  attention  and 
direct  it  in  the  right  course;  the  latter  to  leave  tiie 
strongest  impression  and  the  one  most  in  liannony  with 
the  objwt  of  the  speaker. 

The  second  method  is  the  textual,  and  is  especially 
though  not  exclusively  adapted  to  sermons.  In  it  a 
verse  from  tlie  Bible,  a  motto,  a  sentence  used  by  an 
opponent,  or  some  definite  form  of  very  significant  words, 
aflftjrds  a  basis  for  each  j)art  of  the  discourse.  The  order 
of  the  discourse  may,  however,  be  different  from  tliat  of 
the  words  in  the  text,  any  change  being  allowable  which 
secures  more  of  the  advantages  of  tlie  narrative  or  logi- 
cal methods.     When  the  text  is  itself  well  known,  a 


168  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

plan  based  upon  it  lias  an  ohvions  advantage  in  assisting 
the  memory  both  of  spc^aker  and  hearer,  by  suggesting 
each  part  of  the  discourse  at  the  proper  time.  When 
any  lecture  or  oration  has  a  formal  motto  which  sums 
up  and  fairly  expresses  the  subject  discussed,  the  textual 
l^lan  will  be  as  well  adaptetl  to  it  as  to  a  sermon. 

The  logical  or  matliematical  method  is  the  third  and 
probably  the  most  symmetrical  form  the  plan  may  assume. 
A  topic  is  taken,  and  after  the  introduction,  which  may 
be  the  mere  statement  of  the  subject,  or  of  the  relations 
of  the  speaker  or  of  the  audience  to  it,  that  subject  is 
unfolded  with  all  the  precision  of  a  proposition  in 
geometry.  Each  thought  is  preliminary  to  that  which 
follows,  and  the  whole  ends  in  the  demonstration  of  some 
great  truth  and  the  deduction  of  its  legitimate  corolla- 
ries. This  method  is  the  best  possible  in  those  cases 
adapted  to  it — particularly  those  in  which  some  abstruse 
subject  is  to  be  unfolded  and  proved. 

The  last  method  we  will  describe  proceeds  by  divisions 
and  subdivisions.  It  is  the  military  method,  for  in  it  the 
discourse  is  organized  like  an  army,  into  corps,  brigades, 
and  regiments;  or  it  is  like  a  tree,  whicli  divides  into  two 
or  three  principal  1  (ranches,  and  these  again  sulxlivide 
until  the  finest  twias  are  reached.  All  the  detached  items 
that  have  been  selected  are  brought  into  related  groups, 
each  governed  by  a  central  thouglit,  and  these  again  are 
held  in  strict  subordination  to  the  supreme  idea. 


CONSTRUCTTXG    A    PI. AX.  169 

A  subject  will  inaiiy  times  arrange  ilseli'  almost  spon- 
taneously into  several  clitferent  parts,  which  thus  form 
the  proper  divisions,  and  these  again  may  be  easily 
analyzed  into  their  proper  subdivisions.  Even  when 
this  is  not  the  case,  we  will  see,  as  we  examine  the  jottings 
we  have  made  while  gathering  our  materials,  that  a  few 
of  the  ideas  stand  out  in  special  prominence,  and  with  a 
little  close  study  of  relations  and  affinities  all  the  others 
may  be  made  to  group  themselves  around  these.  The 
individual  ideas  we  put  down  on  the  first  study  of  the 
subject  usually  form  the  subdivisions,  and  some  generali- 
zation of  them  the  divisions. 

It  is  not  well  to  make  the  l)raiichcs  of  a  subject  too 
numerous  or  they  will  introduce  (confusion  and  tail  to 
be  remembered.  From  two  to  fovu*  divisions  with  two 
or  three  subdivisions  under  each,  are  in  a  majority  of 
cases  better  than  a  large  number.  The  tendency  to 
iiiullij)ly  llieiii  to  a  great  extent,  and  llien  to  name  them 
ill  the  moment  of"  delivery,  in  their  oi'der  of  firstly,  sec- 
ondly, etc.,  is  ill  a  great  measure  responsible  for  the 
|)oj)nlar  estimate  (»f  the  dryness  of  sermons,  where  this 
kind  of  plan  ])revails  more  than  anywticrc  else. 

Examples  of  the  dittJ-reiit  kinds  of  discourses  here 
alluded  to  may  Ix?  found  in  the  \ew  Testaiiieiil.  The 
sermon  of  Paul  on  Mars  Hill  was  logical  in  its  develoj)- 
ment.  The  introducti(m  is  an  excpiisite  ada])tation  of 
'his  theme  to  the  position  of  his  hearers,  and  from  that 


170  EXTEMPOEE    8PKECH. 

point  each  thought  is  a  development  from  the  preceding 
thought,  until  the  whole  weight  of  argument  converges 
to  the  duty  of  repentance  because  of  the  coming  of  a  day 
in  which  Jesus  Christ  will  be  Judge.  But  when  Paul 
told  the  story  of  his  conversion  before  Agrippa,  the 
narrative  form,  with  strict  adherence  to  the  order  of  time, 
was  naturally  adopted.  No  better  exam})le  of  the 
divisional  form  can  be  found  than  Christ's  Sermon  on  the 
INIount,  in  which  the  three  chapters  about  correspond 
with  the  general  divisions,  and  the  paragraphs  devotetl 
to  such  topics  as  blessing,  prayer,  fasting,  and  forgive- 
ness, with  the  subdivisions. 

When  we  have  accumulated  our  materials,  stricken 
out  all  that  is  unfitting  or  superfluous,  and  determined 
the  general  character  of  our  discourse,  the  remainder  of 
the  work  of  finishing  the  plan  must  be  left  to  individ- 
ual taste  and  judgment.  No  rules  can  be  given  that  will 
meet  every  case.  We  might  direct  to  put  first  those 
statements  or  arguments  which  are  most  easily  eom})re- 
hended,  and  those  which  are  necessary  for  understanding 
other  [)ortions  of  the  discourse,  and  also  whatever  is 
least  likely  to  be  disputed.  Something  strong  and  im- 
})ressive  should  be  held  well  in  reserve.  It  will  not  be 
according  to  the  principles  of  that  highest  art  which  is 
the  best  mirror  of  nature  if  we  exhaust  interest  in  the 
opening  and  then  close  tamely.  Beyond  these  obvious 
considerations  little  help  can  be  given  to  the  orator  in 


CONSTRUCTING    A    PLAN.  171 

this  part  of  his  work.  He  must  form  liis  own  ideal 
and  then  Avork  up  to  it.  We  do  not  advise  any  one  to 
borrow  other  men's  outlines  for  the  purpose  ot  tilling 
them  up  and  then  speaking-  from  them  as  if  the  work 
was  original.  This  is  a  most  profitless  kind  of  plagia- 
rism. Such  sketches  may  be  useful  to  the  very  young 
sj)eaker,  merely  as  indications  of  the  kind  of  excellenc;^ 
in  plans  or  sketches  at  which  he  should  aim.  .Vnd 
wiu'U  he  hears  g-ood  discourses  he  mav  loolv  beneath  the 
l)iirning  words  and  criticise  the  merits  of  the  frame- 
work upon  which  they  rest.  This  may  render  him 
less  satisfied  with  his  own  plans,  but  such  dissatisfaction 
ever  affords  the  best  hope  for  future  success. 

The  true  mode  of  improving  your  plans  is  to  bestow 
a  great  deal  of  time  and  thought  upon  them,  and  to 
make  no  disposition  of  any  part  f<n'  which  you  cannot 
give  a  satisfactory  reason.  Tfiis  direction  rehites  only 
to  the  beginner.  In  time  the  formation  of  })lans  w  ill 
become  so  natural  that  any  variation  from  the  most 
elfective  arrauijement  will  be  felt  as  keenlv  as  a  discord 
in  nuisic  is  felt  by  a  master  in  that  art.  I'^rom  !-uch 
carefully  constructed  plans,  firm,  coherent,  and  logical 
discourses  will  result. 

There  are  certain  genei'al  characteristics  that  each  plan 
should  possess.  It  must  fully  indicate  the  nature  of  the 
jiroposed  discourse  and  mark  out  each  of  its  successive 
steps  with  accuracy.     Any  want  of  definit-eness  in  the 


172  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

outline  is  a  fatal  defect.  You  must  feel  that  you  can 
rely  absolutely  on  it  for  guidance  to  the  end  of  your 
discourse  or  be  always  in  danger  of  embarrassment  and 
confusion. 

Each  clause  should  express  a  distinct  idea,  and  but 
one.  This  should  be  repcatc\l  in  no  other  i)art  of  the 
discourse ;  otherwise,  we  fall  into  wearisome  repetitions, 
the  great  vice,  as  it  is  often  claimed,  of  extempore 
speakers. 

A  brief  plan  is  better,  other  things  being  equal,  than 
a  long  one.  Often  a  single  word  will  recall  an  idea  as 
perfectly  as  many  sentences,  and  it  will  burden  the 
memory  less.  We  do  not  expect  the  draft  of  a  house  to 
equal  the  house  in  size,  but  only  to  preserve  a  propor- 
tionate relation  to  it  throughout.  The  })lau  cannot 
supply  the  thought,  but,  indicating  what  is  in  the  mind, 
it  shows  how  to  bring  it  forth  in  regular  succession.  It 
is  a  pathway  leading  to  a  definite  end,  and,  like  all  path- 
ways, its  crowning  merits  are  directness  and  smoothness. 
Without  these  qualities  it  will  perplex  and  hinder  rather 
than  aid.  Each  M'ord  in  the  plan  should  suggest  an 
idea,  and  be  so  firmly  bound  to  that  idea  that  the  two 
cannot  become  separated  in  any  exigency  of  speech.  You 
will  find  it  sorely  perplexing  if,  in  the  heat  of  discourse, 
some  important  note  should  lose  the  thought  for  which 
it  previously  stood  and  become  an  empty  word.  But 
with  clear  conceptions  condensed  into  fitting  words  this 


CONSTRUCTING    A    PLAN.  173 

cannot  easily  happen.  A  familiar  idea  can  be  expressed 
very  briefly,  while  a  strange  or  neNV  conception  may 
recjuire  more  expansion.  Bnt  all  thonghts  advanced  by 
the  speaker  ought  to  be  familiar  to  himself  as  the  result 
of  long  meditation  and  thorough  mastery,  no  matter  ho\v 
strange  or  startling  they  are  to  his  hearers.  Most  skele- 
tons may  be  brought  within  the  compass  of  a  hundred 
words,  and  every  part  be  clearly  indicated  to  the  mind 
that  conceived  it,  though  perhaps  not  to  any  other. 

There  may  be  occasions  when  a  speaker  is  justified  in 
announcing  his  divisions  and  subdivisions,  but  such 
cases  are  exceptions.  Hearers  do  not  care  how  a  dis- 
course is  constructed,  so  it  comes  to  them  warm  and 
pulsating  with  life.  To  give  the  jjlan  of  a  speech  before 
the  speech  itself  is  contrary  to  the  order  of  nature.  We 
are  not  rec^uired  first  to  look  upon  a  grisly  skeleton 
before  we  can  sec  a  graceful,  living  body.  There  is  a 
skeleton  inside  each  body,  but  during  life  it  is  well 
hidden,  and  there  is  no  reason  that  the  speaker  should 
anticipate  the  work  of  the  tomb.  It  is  hardly  less 
objectionable  to  name  the  parts  of  the  discourse  during 
the  progress  of  the  discussion,  for — continuing  the  former 
illustration — bones  that  project  through  the  skin  are 
very  unlovely.  The  only  case,  I  presume  to  tliink, 
where  it  is  justifiable  to  name  tlic  parts  of  a  discourse, 
either  before  or  during  its  delivery,  is  where  the  sepa- 
rate parts  have  an  importance  of  tlieir  own,  in  addition 


174  EXTILMPORE    SPEECH. 

to  their  olHce  of  contributing  to  the  general  object. 
Much  of  the  proverbial  "(hyness"  of  f^crnions  arises 
from  the  preacher  telling  what  he  is  about  to  remark, 
firstly,  before  he  actually  makes  the  remark  thus  num- 
bered. Whenever  we  hear  a  minister  read  his  text, 
announce  his  theme,  state  the  parts  into  which  he  means 
to  divide  it,  and  then  warn  us  that  the  fu\^t  head  will  be 
subdivided  into  a  certain  number  of  parts,  each  of  which 
is  also  specified  in  advance,  we  j)repareour  endurance  for 
a  severe  test. 

What  great  speeches  re(piire  are  dee}),  strong  appeals 
to  the  hearts  of  the  people,  through  which  shines  the 
radiance  of  great  truths  and  the  lightning  of  intense 
convictions.  These  can  all  find  their  place  in  the  most 
logically  constructed  address  if  the  logic  be  not  brought 
out  and  paraded  in  its  offensive  nakedness.  No  mat- 
ter if  the  orator's  mode  of  Avork  is  less  understood. 
A  tree  is  far  more  beautiful  and  impressive  when  covered 
with  waving  foliage,  even  if  some  of  the  branches  are 
hidden.  Let  the  tide  of  elocpieuce  flow  on  in  an  un- 
broken stream,  bearing  with  it  all  hearts,  but  giving  no 
indication  of  the  manner  in  which  it  is  guided  ;  or,  better 
still,  let  it  move  with  the  impetus  of  the  cannon-bjill,  but 
without  proclainiing  in  advance  the  mark  toward  which 
it  is  flying. 

The  plan  should  go  just  as  far  as  the  intended  speech, 
that  we  may  know  exactly  where  to  stop.     Then  we  can 


CO>:STRLCTIXG    A    PLAX.  175 

arise  with  confidence,  for  we  are  sure  that  we  have  sorae- 
tliing  to  say ;  we  know  wliat  it  is,  and,  most  in:iportant 
of  all,  we  will  kndw  wlien  it  is  finished.  Most  of  the 
objet^tions  urged  against  extempore  s[)eaking  apply  only 
to  speeches  that  have  no  governing  plan.  But  when  a 
firm  and  clear  plan  is  prearranged,  there  is  no  more 
danger  of  saying  what  we  do  not  intend,  or  of  running 
into  endless  digressions,  than  if  every  word  was  written. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  better  way  of  gnarding  against  undne 
discursiveness  in  a  written  speech  than  I)y  arranging 
such  a  plan  before  beginning  to  write. 

But  it  may  be  urge<l  that  tins  lalxirious  preparation — 
this  careful  placing  of  every  thought — will  require  as 
much  time  as  to  write  in  full.  It  may  at  first.  The 
mind  needs  to  ha  drilled  into  the  woi-k,  and  it  will  be  of 
great  vahie  even  as  a  mental  discipline.  No  study  of 
logic  or  of  metaphysics  will  give  such  practical  insight 
into  the  nature  of  the  mind's  workings  as  this  pre- 
arrangement  of  thoughts  and  words  to  frame  a  speech. 
But  the  work  grows  continually  easier  with  practice, 
until  the  mature  speaker  will  save  three- foiu'ths — or  even 
more  than  that  proportion — of  the  time  consumed  by  the 
speech-writer. 

The  speech  is  now  clearly  indicated,  A  plan  has  been 
prepared  that  fixes  each  item  in  its  proper  place.  There 
is  no  further  danger  of  the  looseness  and  desultoriness 
with  which  extempore  speech  has  been  reproached.    Yet 


176  EXTEMPUKE    SPEECH. 

there  is  abundant  room  for  the  inspiration  of  the  moment. 
It  is  possible,  in  all  the  fire  of  utterance,  to  leave  the 
beaten  track  and  give  expression  to  any  new  ideas  that 
may  be  called  up  by  the  ardor  of  speech.  But  a  sure 
foundation  is  laid — a  course  is  marked  out  Avhich  has 
been  deeply  premeditated,  and  which  gives  certainty  to 
all  we  say. 


CHAPTKPv  r 

How  SriAi.L  'HIE  WruTTEx  Plax  r>E  Used? 

Now  that  the  phiii  is  eoiupU'ted  and  fully  written  out, 
the  next  question  arises  as  to  what  shall  he  done  with 
it.  It  may  either  be  used  or  abused.  To  read  it  to 
the  audience  or  exhibit  it  to  them  would  be  an  obvious 
abuse.  Possil)ly  if  the  speaker  possessed  a  large  bhiek- 
board,  the  latter  course  might,  in  special  eases,  have  some 
advantages.  But  even  then  it  is  better  that  the  students 
should,  in  most  instances,  exercise  their  own  ingenuity 
in  gathering  out  of  the  body  of  the  speech  the  central 
thoughts  which  they  wish  to  ])reserve  in  their  note- 
books, tlian  that  the  work  should  be  done  for  them  in 
advance  by  having  the  whole  |;lan  of  the  lectuiv  })laced 
in  their  sight. 

The  writer  has  experimentwl  on  this  sul)ject  by  re])eat- 
ing  the  same  lecture  to  different  classes  with  the  outline  in 
some  oases  exposed  to  view,  and  in  the  others  concealed : 
the  interest  has  alwavs  seemed  to  be  greatei",  and  the 
understanding  more  com])lete  in  the  latter  case.  If  this 
is  true  where  instruction  is  the  only  aim,  it  is  still  more 
ne(*ssary  where  j)ersuasion  is  the  object  of  the  speaker. 
The  exposing  in  advance  of  the  means  by  which  he 
intends  to  work,  \\ill  put  on  their  guard  the  very  per- 

177  " 


178  EXTEMPt>KE    SPEECH. 

sons  wh«3se  hearts  he  wishes  to  capturo.  ami  tbu-.  lose  him 
all  that  advantage  of  surprise  whieh  is  otteu  a-  luonuiu- 
ous  iu  ui-atorical  as  in  niilitarv  attaii-s. 

There  ai-e  two  other  ways  of  using  the  plan  tu  lie 
wusidei-etl.  One  is  to  keep  it  in  the  s|)eaker's  sight,  so 
that  he  may  step  along  from  one  item  t.«  anotlur.  thus 
keeping  a  foundation  of  written  words  iu  tlie  midst  of 
the  uneertainty  of  his  exteuipn-aneiHis  efforts,  like  that 
atfordeil  by  stepping-stones  tu  a  man  eriK-^sing  a  running 
stream.  There  are  Si^)me  advantages  in  sueh  use.  The 
speaker  will  teel  freer  in  making  tlujse  jxmses  wl.irli  -w.- 
sometimes  necessary  for  the  siike  of  emphasi-.  Hr  is 
better  able  to  ot>lleet  his  scatterotl  itleas  in  rase  any 
imtowartl  cireumstanee  should  break  the  thread  of  his 
discourse.  If  he  is  confused  for  a  moment,  he  may  kx»k 
dowTi  to  his  paper  and  recover  himself,  while  if  thoughts 
and  words  flow  easily  Ik-  ran  ignore  the  plan  which  lic-rs 
before  him. 

But  all  the  reasons  for  thus  using  the  plan  are  the 
most  emphatic  condemnation  of  the  practice.  They  are 
all  make-shifts.  They  are  based  upon  the  thought  that 
the  great  object  is  to  secure  the  speaker  from  danger  and 
conilision  ;  in  other  words,  they  put  him  on  the  defeji- 
sive,  instead  of  the  aggressive.  Were  the  question  to  be 
stated,  "  How  can  a  man  Ijest  preserve  the  form  of  ex- 
temporaneous sjieech  while  shielding  himself  fi"om  the 
most  dangerous  incidents  of  that  mode  of  address  ?"  it 


rSIXO    THE    WEITTEX    PLAX.  170 

might  plausibly  l>e  replied,  "By  making  a  very  full  plan 
and  concealing  it  at  H»nie  point  within  the  reach  of  his 
eves,  and  using  it  whenever  that  course  becomes  ea.siest." 

But  we  have  not  sought  to  point  out  the  mode  of 
speech  which  will  lx.'st  protect  the  speaker  from  risks 
iufidcnt  to  his  work.  For  real  effectiveness,  conipro- 
inises  are  usually  hurtful,  and  this  expedient  forms  no 
exception. 

To  have  a  plan  in  sight  tends  jKtwerfidly  t<>  break  up 
the  spetH'h  into  fragments  and  destroy  its  unity.  A 
series  of  short  addresses  on  relatefl  }x>ints,  affords  no  sub- 
-titute  fr>r  a  concent rate<l  discourse.  The  speaker  who 
publi<lv  u>cs  his  sketch,  sjieaks  on  until  he  reaches  a 
point  at  which  he  does  not  know  what  is  to  come  next, 
and  on  the  brink  of  that  gulf,  hniks  down  at  his  notes, 
and,  perhaps  after  a  search,  finds  what  he  wants.  Had 
the  thought  existed  in  his  mind,  it  would  liave  blended 
the  close  of  the  preceding  sentences  into  harmony  with 
it.  Direc-t  address  to  the  i^eople,  which  they  so  much 
value  in  a  speaker,  is  interfered  with  in  the  same  way, 
for  his  eye  must  rest  for  a  portion  of  the  time  upon  his 
notes.  He  will  also  l)e  apt  to  mention  the  divisions  of 
his  s|>eech  as  they  occur,  because  the  eye  is  resting  upon 
them  at  the  same  time  the  tongue  is  engaged,  and  it  is 
hard  to  keep  the  two  meml^ers  from  working  in  harmony. 
Tf  notes  must  l)e  used  the  same  advice  applies  that  we 
have  alreadv  offered  to  those  who  read  in  ftdL     Be  honest 


180  EXTKMI'onR    SPEEfTT. 

about  it;  do  not  tiy  to  hide  the  notes.  Any  attempt  to 
prove  to  an  audience  that  we  are  doing  ^hat  we  arc  not 
doiiiii',  has  in  it  an  element  of  deception,  and  is  morally 
objectionable.  The  use  of  notes  is  not  wrong,  but  to  use 
them  while  pretending  not  to  use  them  is  wrong. 

Some  speakers  carry  their  notes  in  their  pockets  for 
the  sake  of  being  able  to  take  them  out  in  case  they  find 
their  memory  failing,  and  thus  they  guard  against  the 
misfortune  which  once  befell  the  eloijuciit  Abl)e  l>autain, 
who,  on  ascending  the  j^ulpit  to  ])reach  before  the  Fi-cncli 
King  and  Court,  foimd  that  he  liad  forgotten  subject,  plan, 
and  text.  This  method  is  honest  and  unobjeetiouable, 
for  the  notes  of  the  plan  ai'c  either  not  used  by  the 
speaker  at  all,  or  if  he  takes  them  from  his  pocket,  the 
})eople  will  understand  the  action. 

The  only  remaining  method,  and  that  which  we  would 
urge  upon  every  extempore  speaker,  is  to  conunit  the 
plan,  as  sketched,  to  memory.  It  is  put  in  the  best  pos- 
sible shape  for  the  expression  of  the  subject  by  the  labor 
which  has  been  previously  bestoAved  upon  it,  and  now 
such  review  as  will  give  the  mind  a  perfect  recollection  of 
the  Avhole  subject  in  its  orderly  unfolding  is  just  what 
is  needed  for  final  mastery.  Previously  much  of  the  work 
of  preparation  was  given  to  detached  fragments.  Now 
the  subject  as  a  whole  is  spread  out.  The  time  given  to 
a  thorough  memorizing  of  the  ])lan  neetl  not  be  great; 
it  will  indeed  be  but  small  if  tlie  plan  itself  is  so  well 


USING    THE    WRITTEN    PT.AX.  ISl 

arranged  that  every  preceding  part  suggest-  what  fol- 
lows; hut  it  will  be  the  most  fruitful  of  all  the  time 
sj)ent  in  preparation.  It  puts  you  in  the  best  condition 
for  speaking.  The  object  is  then  fixed  in  the  heart  and 
will  fire  it  to  earnestness  and  zeal,  while  the  subject  is 
s])rcad,  like  a  map,  before  the  mental  vision.  All  the 
]»o\\(T  you  possess  can  then  be  brought  to  bear  directly 
upon  the  [)eople.  Do  not  fear  that  in  the  hurry  of  dis- 
course you  will  forget  some  part  of  what  is  clear  when 
vou  begin.  If  you  are  in  good  mental  and  physical 
(•(iiiditidu,  the  act  of  speech  will  he  exhilarating  and  stim- 
ulating, so  that  every  fine  line  of  preparation  will  come 
into  clearness  just  at  the  right  time,  and  many  a  relation 
unpcrccivcd  l)efore,  many  a  fi)rgotten  fact,  will  spring  up 
in  (•oiiiplcte  and  vivid  })erception.  There  is  a  wonderful 
luxury  (if  feeling  in  such  speech.  Sailing  with  a  swift 
wind,  liding  a  race-horse,  even  the  joy  of  victori(»us  bat- 
tle— indeed,  all  enjoyments  that  arise  from  the  hiuliest 
powers  called  forth  into  successful  exercise — are  inici'ior 
to  the  thrill  and  intoxication  of  the  highest  form  of  suc- 
c(>ssful  extemporaneous  sj)eech.  To  think  of  using  notes 
then  would  seem  like  a  contemptible  impertiueiice ! 
Imagine  Xavier  or  Ivuther  \vith  their  notes  s])i-ead  out 
before  them,  looking  up  the  different  items  from  which 
to  address  the  multitudes  spell-bound  ])efore  them  !  The 
Presbyterian  Deacon  who  once  prayed  in  the  presence  of 
•    his  note-using  Pastor,  "  ()  Lord!  teach  Thy  servants  to 


182  EXTEMPOTIE   SPEECH. 

ppcak  iVoin  thf  Ju'iirt  h»  tlic  licarl,  ami  n<it  I'nun  a  little 
piece  ol'  paper,  as  tlic  iiiaiiiu'r  of  some  is,"  was  not  so 
very  far  wrong ! 

It  is  advisable  to  coniniit  the  plan  to  meniorv  a  con- 
siderable time  before  speaking-.  It  then  takes  more 
complete  possession  of  tlie  mind  and  there  is  less  liability 
of  forgetting  some  portion.  This  is  less  iiiij)(>rtant  when 
the  subject  is  perfectly  faiiiiliar,  for  tlicn  "out  of  the 
abundance  of  the  heart  the  moutii  spcaketii,"  but  those 
subjects  which  have  been  recently  studied  for  the  first 
time  are  in  a  different  position  ;  and  some  meditation 
u})on  tliat  wliicli  has  just  been  arranged  in  its  best  form 
will  be  very  serviceable.  Even  if  the  salient  p(»ints  arc 
firndy  grasped,  some  of  the  minor  parts  may  recpiire 
further  close  consideration.  No  study  is  ever  so  profit- 
able as  that  which  is  bestoAved  after  the  plan  is  complete, 
for  up  to  that  time  there  is  danger  that  some  of  the 
thoughts  to  which  our  attention  is  given  may  be  ulti- 
mately rejected  and  others  radically  modified.  But 
when  the  plan  is  finished  each  idea  has  settled  into  its 
place.  If  obscurity  rests  anywhere,  it  may  be  detected 
at  once,  and  the  strength  of  the  mind  be  brought  to  bear 
for  its  banishment.  Impressions  derived  from  mtxlita- 
tion  are  then  easily  retained  until  the  hour  of  speech, 
because  associated  with  their  ])roper  place  in  the  prepared 
outline.  Such  deep  meditation  on  each  division  of  the 
discourse  can  scarcely  fail  to  make  it  original  in  the  true 


ri^IXr;    TlIK    WIJITTEN    PI.AN.  18.3 

sense  of  the  tfini,  ;iii<l  wravc  all  its  parts  together  with 
stronii'  and  lua.-sive  thouy-hts. 

After  till'  plan  has  heeii  luemorizetl  we  can  meditate 
upon  it  not  only  at  tJie  desk,  but  anywhere.  As  we 
walk  about  or  lie  in  bc^l,  or  at  any  other  time  iind  our 
minds  free  from  distractions,  we  can  ponder  the  ideas 
that  cluster  around  our  subject  until  they  grow  perfectly 
fiuniliar.  Kveu  when  wc  arc  reading-  or  thinking  on 
other  topics,  l)rilliant  thoughts  will  not  unfrequently 
spring  up,  or  those  wc  posse.ss«l  before  take  stronger 
and  more  definite  outlines.  All  such  gains  can  be  held 
in  memorv  without  the  use  ol'  the  |)cn,  because  the  [)lau 
furnishes  a  suitable  place  iiir  them. 

The  course  here  described  we  would  urgi'  strongly 
upon  the  consideration  of  llie  young  speaker.  If  cai'c- 
lidlv  followed,  its  result.-  will  be  invaluable.  Ari'ange 
the  plan  from  w  liieh  \ou  are  to  s])eak  as  clearly  as  may 
be  in  the  form  of  a  l»i-ief  sk<tcli  ;  turn  it  over  and  over 
again;  ponder  each  idea  and  tlu;  manner  of  bringing  it 
out;  study  the  connection  between  all  tin-  ])arts  until 
the  whole  from  beginning  to  end  appears  ])erfcctly  plain 
and  simple.  So  fre<piently  has  this  mode  of  preparation 
been  tested  that  its  ctli-ctiveuess  is  no  longci"  a  matter  ol' 
experiment. 

It  is  ad\'antageous  to  grasp  the  whole  subject,  as 
early  as  possible,  in  a  single  idea — in  the  same  manner 
in  which  the  future  tree  is  compressed  within  the  germ 


184  extp:mi'(>i:k   si-kki  ii. 

from  which  it  is  to  sprin^j;.  Then  llii>  one  thought  will 
.suggest  the  entire  discourse  to  the  speaker,  and  at  its 
eonelusion  will  he  left  <.'lear  and  j)(>sitive  in  the  hearer's 
mind.  For  some  acute  auditors  this  niav  he  hss  neces- 
sary. They  are  ahle  to  outrun  a  loose  speaker,  arrange 
his  scattcre<l  fragments,  supply  his  omissions,  and  arrive 
at  the  idea  which  has  not  yet  formed  itself  clearly  in  his 
own  mind.  Such  persons  often  honestly  connnend 
oratoi's  who  are  incomprehensihle  to  the  majority  of 
their  hearers.  But  tlu-  <»j)inions  of  such  auditors  are  an 
unsafe  guide,  f(:)r  the\-  lonii  a  \rvv  small  minority  of 
any  assend)ly. 

There  is  one  fuither  step  which  luav  sometimes  pre- 
cede the  moment  of  speedi  with  profit — the  placing  upon 
pajH'r  of  a  l)rief  l»ut  connected  sketch  or  statement  of  the 
whole  discourse.  If  this  is  made  in  the<irdinarv  writing 
there  is  danger  that  its  slowness  will  make  it  more  of  a 
word-study  than  what  it  is  intended  to  Ik — a  test  of 
ideas.  A  thorough  mastery  of  shorthand,  or  the  service 
of  some  one  who  has  such  mastery,  will  supjtlv  this 
defect.  If  the  plan  is  well  ai-rangcd  thei-e  will  he  no 
])ause  in  the  most  rapid  composition,  and  if  the  Avholc 
discourse  can  at  one  effort  he  thrown  into  a  dress  of 
words  there  may  he  full  assurance  that  the  same  thing 
can  he  accomplished  still  more  easily  and  effectively 
when  the  additional  stinndns  ol'an  au<hence  is  supplied. 
There  should  he  no  attempt,  in  the  momejit  of  speaking, 


rsiN(;    riri-:  written  plan.  185 

to  recall  the  very  words  used  in  writing,  l)ut  the  eom- 
nian<l  of  language  will  luidoubtedly  be  greatly  improved 
l»v  having  .so  recently  n.^ed  many  of  the  terms  that  will 
he  again  required.  Frequently  there  will  be  fine  pas- 
sages in  the  s])eech  which  you  have  thus  struck  oif  at 
white  heat  that  you  may  be  unwilling  to  forget,  but  it  is 
better  to  make  no  effort  to  remember  them,  for  you  arc 
almost  sure  to  rise  still  higher  in  the  moment  of 
public  delivery. 

When  this  rapid  writing  is  not  available,  a  })artial 
substitute  for  it  maybe  found  in  Mriting  in  the  ordinary 
hand  a  bi-ief  sketch  or  coni])act  model  of  the  Avhole  dis- 
course.    You   will    be  surprised  to  notice  how  short  a 
compass  will  .suffice  for  a  discourse  requiring  an  hour  or 
more    in    delivery,   without    the   omission    of  a   single 
material  thought.     Such  a  sketch  differs  from  the  plan 
in  clearly  expressing    all    tlic  ideas    that    underlie    the 
coming   speech,  while   tlic  latter  woidd   l)c  nearly  unin- 
telligible to  any  but   its  author.     The  one  is  only  a  I'ew 
marks  thrown  out  in  the  field  of  thought  by  which  an 
intended  ]>athway  is  indicated  ;  the  other  is  a  very  bi-ief 
view  of  the  thoughts  themselves,  without  adornment  or 
verbiage.     Some  six'akcrs  who  iniiiht   fl-cl    insecure   in 
trusting  the  notes  and  hints  of  the  ])lan  would  feel  per- 
fectlv    safe    in    enlarging    ui)on    a    statement    of    their 
thoughts  so  brief  that   the  whole  sketch  of  the  speech 
would   not  require  more  than  three  or  four  minutes  to 


\RC^  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

read.  But  this  whole  plan  of  writing,  either  in  full 
or  in  brief,  is  only  an  expedient,  and  need  not  be  adopted 
by  those  who  have  full  confidence  in  their  trained  and 
cultivated  powers. 

After  you  have  prepared  your  plan  it  is  well  to  pre- 
serve it  for  future  use,  which  may  be  done  by  copying 
it  into  a  book  kept  for  that  purpose :  or,  what  is  more 
convenient  in  practice,  folding  the  slip  of  paper  on  which 
it  is  written  into  an  envelope  of  suital)le  si/e  with  the 
subject  written  on  the  back.  These  may  be  classified 
and  preserved,  even  in  very  large  numbers,  so  as  to  be 
easily  consulted.  From  time  to  time,  as  your  ability 
grows,  they  may  be  improved  u})on  so  as  to  remain  the 
complete  expression  ofyour  ability  on  every  tlicmc  treated. 
On  the  back  of  the  envelope  may  also  be  written  refer- 
ences to  any  source  of  additional  infi>rmation  on  the 
same  subject,  and  printed  or  Avritten  scraps,  valuable  as 
illustrations,  or  fi)r  additional  information,  may  be 
slipped  inside. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

The  FiitST  Moment  of  Speech. 

Having  complettnl  all  your  iJivjiarations,  you  now 
anxiously  await  the  coninienceiiicnt  of"  the  intellectual 
battle.  This  period  is  often  a  severe  trial.  Men  Avho 
are  physically  brave  sometimes  tremble  in  anticipation  of 
sj)eedily  standing-  before  an  audience.  The  sliame  of 
failure  then  may  appear  worse  than  death  itself.  As  the 
soldier  feels  more  of  cold  and  shrinking-  terror  when 
listening  for  the  peal  of  the  first  gun,  than  afterward, 
when  the  conflict  deepens  into  blood  around  him,  so  the 
speaker  usually  snfi'ers  more  in  this  moinent  of  exjKcl- 
aiicy  than  in  any  that  follows.  Yon  behold  the  danger 
in  its  full  magnitude,  without  the  ins})iration  that  attends 
it.  Yet  whatever  effort  it  may  cost,  you  must  remain 
calm  and  collected,  for  if  not  master  of  yourself,  you 
cannot  ex]K'ct  to  rule  others.  Voni*  material  nmst  be 
kept  well  in  hand,  ready  to  be  Uracil  at  the  pro|)er  time, 
thouoh  it  is  not  well  to  becontinuallvconuin":  over  vonr 
j)reparation.  That  woidd  destroy  the  freshness  of  yonr 
matter  and  bring  you  to  the  decisive  test  weary  and 
jaded.  You  oidy  need  such  an  occasional  glance  as  will 
assure  you  that  all  your  material  remains  within  reach. 
It  is  seldom  possible  by  any  means  to  banish  all  fear, 

187 


188  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

iiiul  it  is  to  the  speaker's  advantage  that  he  cannot.  His 
timidity  arises  from  several  causes,  which  diller  w  idely 
in  the  eifects  they  produce.  A  conscious  want  of  })repa- 
ration,  especially  w  hen  this  arises  from  any  neglect  or 
indolence,  is  one  of  the  most  distressing  sources  of  fear. 
A  species  of  remorse  then  mingles  with  the  embarrass- 
ment natural  to  the  moment.  If  the  speaker  has  no 
other  motive  than  to  win  reputation — to  minister  to  his 
own  vanity — he  will  feel  terrified,  as  he  realizes  that 
shame  instead  of  honor  may  be  the  result  of  his  rash- 
ness. That  man  is  fortunate  who  can  say,  "  I  only 
speak  because  I  feel  it  to  be  duty  which  I  dare  not 
refuse — a  work  that  I  must  perform  whether  well  or 
ill."  The  lawyer  who  must  defend  his  client,  the  min- 
ister who  feels  that  the  hour  of  service  has  arrived,  the 
teacher  in  the  presence  of  his  class,  are  examples  of  those 
who  speak  under  the  same  kind  of  compulsion  that  calls 
a  field  laborer  out  into  the  burning  heat  of  a  July  noon 
whether  he  feels  like  it  or  not.  But  if  you  areal)out  to 
speak  because  you  have  intruded  into  the  work  that 
j)roperly  belongs  to  another,  you  need  to  be  very  snicof 
your  preparation,  for  in  case  of  failure  you  will  not  have 
even  your  own  sympathy. 

But  the  most  formidable  and  common  foe  of  the 
speaker's,  in  these  })reliminarv  moments,  is  a  general 
dread  that  can  neither  be  analyzed  nor  accounted  for. 
Persons  who  have  never  felt  its  power  sometimes  make 


TIIK    FIRST    MOMENT    OF    SPEECir.  ISO 

light  of  it,  l)ut  experience  will  change  their  views.  The 
soldier  wlio  has  never  witnessed  a  battle,  or  felt  the  air 
throb  with  the  explosion  of  camion,  or  heard  the  awfnl 
cries  of  the  wonnded,  is  often  a  great  braggart;  while 
"the  sairrwl  veteran  of  a  hnndred  fights"  never  speaks 
of  the  carnival  of  blood  withont  sluidderino;,  and  would 
be  the  last,  but  for  the  call  of  duty,  to  l)ravc  the  danger 
he  knows  so  well.  There  may  be  a  few  speakers  who 
do  not  feel  such  fear,  but  it  is  because  they  do  not  know 
■what  true  speaking  is.  They  have  never  known  the  full 
tide  of  inspiration  which  sometimes  lifts  the  orator  far 
above  his  conceptions,  but  which  first  struggles  in  his 
own  bosom  like  the  })ent  fires  of  a  volcano.  They  only 
come  forward  to  relieve  themselves  of  the  interminable 
stream  of  twaddle  that  wells  spontaneously  to  tlieir  lips, 
and  can  well  be  spared  the  ])angs  preceding  the  birth  of 
a  ])owcrfiil  and  living  discourse. 

This  kind  of  fear  belongs  to  every  kind  of  oratory,  but 
is  most  intense  on  those  great  occasions,  in  presence  of 
large  audiences,  when  men's  passi(;ns  run  high.  In  mere 
instructive  address,  where  the  ground  has  been  repeatedly 
gone  over  and  where  the  effort  is  mainly  of  an  intellect- 
ual character,  it  is  less  noticeable.  It  resembles  the  awe 
felt  on  the  eve  of  all  great  enterj)rises,  and  when  exces- 
sive, as  it  is  in  some  highly  giftwl  minds,  it  constitutes  an 
absolute  bar  to  public  speech.  But  in  most  cases  it  is  a 
*  source  of  inspiration  rather  th.an  of  repression. 


190  EXTEMPOKE    SPEECH. 

TIrtc  is  a  strange  sensation  often  experien'-cd  in  tho 
])r('senee  of  an  andience.  It  niav  proceed  from  the  j:M/.e 
of  llie  many  eyes  that  turn  upon  tlic  sjx-aker,  opccially 
if  !ie  jH'rmits  himself  to  steadily  retni-n  that  ga/x'.  Most 
speakers  liave  been  eonseious  of  this  in  a  p.anieless  thrill, 
a  real  something,  pervading  the  atmo  phc-re,  t-jngihle, 
evanescent,  indescribable.  All  writers  have  borne  testi- 
mony to  the  p(t\ver  of  a  speaker's  eye  in  impressing  an 
andience.  This  influence  which  we  ai'c  now  considering 
is  the  reverse  of  that  picture — the  power  (heir  eyes  may 
exert  upon  him,  especially  before  he  begins  to  sjx'ak : 
after  the  inward  fires  of  oratory  are  fanned  into  flame 
the  eyes  of  the  audience  lose  all  terror.  By  dvvcljing 
on  the  object  for  which  we  speak  and  endeavoring  to 
realize  its  full  importance,  "we  will  in  a  measure  lose 
sight  of  our  personal  danger,  and  be  more  likely  to 
maintain  a  calm  and  tranquil  frame  of  mind. 

No  change  should  be  made  in  the  plan  at  the  last 
moment,  as  that  is  very  liable  to  produce  confusion. 
This  error  is  often  committed.  The  mind  has  a  natural 
tendency  to  go  repeatedly  over  the  same  ground,  revising 
and  testing  every  point,  and  it  may  make  changes  the  conse- 
quences of  which  cannot  be  in  a  moment  foreseen.  But 
the  necessary  preparation  has  l)een  made  and  we  should 
now  await  the  result  calmly  and  hopefully.  Over-sludy 
is  quite  possible,  and  when  accompanied  1)y  gi'eat  solici- 
tude wearies  our  mind  in  advance  and  strijDs  the  subject 


THE    FIRST    MOMENT    OF    SPEECH.  191 

of  all  fVesline.ss.  If  the  eye  i.s  fixed  too  long  in)oii  one 
objeet  with  a  steadfast  gaze,  it  loses  the  jxiwer  to  see  at 
all.  So  the  mind,  if  exerted  steadily  npon  a  single  topic 
for  a  long  period,  fiiils  in  vigor  and  elasticity  at  the 
moment  when  those  (pialities  are  indispensable.  That 
profoinid  thinker  and  jireaeher,  Frederick  W.  Robertson, 
exj)erienced  this  ditficnity  and  was  aeenstomed  to  find 
relief  by  reading  some  inspiring  paragraphs  npon  some 
totally  different  theme  from  that  he  intended  to  sj)eak 
abont.  The  energy  and  enthnsiasm  of  onr  minds  in 
the  moment  of  sj)eecli  must  be  raised  to  the  highest 
pitch;  the  delivery  of  a  living  discourse  is  not  the  dry 
enumeration  of  a  list  of  particulars;  but  we  must 
actually  feel  an  inuuediate  and  burning  interest  in  the 
topics  with  which  we  deal.  This  cannot  be  counterfeited. 
To  clearly  arrange  all  thoughts  that  belong  to  the 
subject,  lay  them  aside  when  the  work  is  done  until  the 
moment  of  speech,  and  then  enter  confidently  upon  them 
with  only  such  a  momentary  glance  as  will  assure  us 
that  all  is  right — this  is  the  method  to  make  our  strength 
fully  available.  This  confidence  while  in  waiting  seems 
to  the  beginner  very  ditlicult,  but  experience  rapidly 
renders  it  easy.  M.  Bautain  declares  that  he  has  been 
repeatedly  so  confident  in  his  jireparation  as  to  fall 
asleep  while  waiting  to  be  sutnmone^l  to  the  pulpit  ! 
Those  who  misimprovo  the  last  moments  by  too  much 
*  thought  and  solicitude  are  not  the  only  class   of  offen- 


102  KXTKMF'oltK     s|'i:K<If. 

clers.  Some  jhtsohs,  tlirouirli  incrc  iiulolonoc,  sufl'cr  tlie 
fine  linos  of  preparation  w  liiili  have  l)een  traced  with  >o 
much  care  to  fade  into  dininor5,s.  TliLs  error  is  not  un- 
fre(juently  eonimitted  by  those  who  speak  a  second  or 
tliird  time  on  the  same  subject.  Because  they  have  once 
succeeded  they  imao:ine  that  the  same  success  is  always 
at  command.  Xo  mistake  could  \xi  greater.  It  is  not 
enough  to  have  spee<-h-material  in  a  position  from  which 
it  can  be  collected  by  a  conscious  and  prolonge<l  effort, 
but  it  must  be  in  the  foreground  of  the  mind.  There  is 
no  time  at  the  moment  of  delivery  for  reviving  half 
obliterated  lines  of  memery. 

The  writer  once  saw  a  notable  case  of  failure  from 
this  cause.  A  preacher  on  a  great  occasion  was  nuich 
engrossed  with  other  important  duties  until  the  hour 
appointed  for  his  sermon  had  arrivenl.  With  perfect 
confidence  he  selected  a  sketch  from  which  he  had 
preached  a  short  time  before  and  with  the  general  course 
of  which  he  was  no  doubt  familiar.  But  when  he 
endeavored  to  j)roduce  his  thoughts  they  were  not  ready. 
He  became  embarrassed,  talked  at  random  for  a  short 
time,  and  then  had  the  candor  to  tell  the  audience  that 
he  could  not  finish,  and  to  take  his  seat.  Probably  half 
an  hour  given  to  reviewing  his  plan  would  have  made 
all  his  previous  preparation  fresh  again,  and  have  spared 
him  the  mortification  of  failure. 

In  this  last  interval  it  is  also  well  to  care  for  the 


Tin-:  FiusT   MoMKNT  OF  srEECii.  10:3 

strcnij^tli  and  vi<;()r  of  tli(>  body,  as  its  condition  p'eatly 
influences  all  mental  operations.  It  is  said  tiiat  the 
pearl-divei-,  befijre  ventni-ini;  into  the  depths  of  the  sea, 
always  spends  a  few  moments  in  deep  l)i-(athiii<;-  and 
other  bodily  preparations.  In  the  excitement  of  speech, 
the  whirl  and  hurricane  of  emotion,  it  is  advisable  to 
l>e  well  ])re|)ared  for  the  high  tension  of  nerve  tliat  is 
implied.  Mental  excitement  exhausts  and  wears  down 
the  body  fiister  tlian  bodily  labor.  A\'e  nnist  carefully 
husband  our  strength  that  we  may  be  able  to  meet  all 
demands  U})on  it. 

Ilolyoake  makes  the  following  pertinent  ol)servati()n 
in  reference  t(»  this  point : 

"  Perhaps  the  lowest  cpiality  of  the  art  of  oratory, 
but  one  on  many  oeea.-ions  of  the  ///-.s-^  iniporkince,  is  a 
certain  robust  and  radiant  physical  health;  great  volumes 
of  animal  heat.  In  the  cold  thinness  ef  a  morning 
audience  mere  energy  and  mellowness  is  inestimable; 
Avi>dom  and  learning  wouM  )»<•  liar>li  and  unwelcome 
com])ai'e(l  with  a  substantial  man,  who  i-  (juite  a  house- 
warming." 

Fatiguing  and  excessive  exercise  should  be  verv  care- 
fully avoided.  Holyouke  illustrates  this  from  his  own 
experience.      Me  says  : 

"One  Saturday  I  walked  from  Sheffield  to  Iludders- 
field  to  deliver  on  Sunday  two  amiiversary  h-ctnres.  It 
\\i\s  my  lirst  a[)pearance  there,  and    1    was  aiidntions  to 


104  EXTKMI'OKK  SPKRCH. 

aci(iiit  inyxir  well.  IJiit  in  tlif  iiiurniiio;  f  was  utterly 
iiiial)!)'  to  (Id  iiiorr  tliaii  talk  half  iiiaiidiMy  aii<l  i|iiito 
iiicolicrciitlv.  Ill  the  cvciiiiiii  I  was  tolcrahlc,  l»iit  inv 
voitr  was  weak.  My  amioyaiicc  was  cxcosivr.  I  wa.s 
a  panulox  to  myself".  My  power  seeme<l  to  come  and  <;() 
l)v  some  eceentri<'  law  of"  it>  own.  I  did  not  lind  out 
until  years  after  tliat  the  utter  cxjiair-tion  of  my  strentrfh 
liad  exhausted  the  |)owers  of"  sjieeeh  and  thought,  and 
that  entire  re])ose,  instead  of"  entire  fati<i:ue,  should  have 
Utvn  the  preparation  for  j)ul>lie  speaking." 

The  last  statement  is  somewhat  too  stronj;,  for  ahso- 
liite  rest  is  not  generally  ad\  isahle.  It  would  leave  the 
speaker,  when  he  hegan  to  speak,  with  languid  iiiind  :',iid 
slowly  beating  pulse — a  state  which  it  would  reijuire 
some  minutes  for  him  to  ovcr(V)me.  A  short,  but  brisk 
Avalk,  when  the  liealth  is  good,  will  in\igoratc  and  refresh 
all  his  faculties,  and  often  prevent  a  listless  introduction 
by  giving  him  the  vigor  to  grasp  the  subject  at  once  and 
launch  right  into  the  heart  of  it.  Should  anv  ])erson 
doubt  the  power  of  exercise  to  produce  this  effec-t,  let 
him,  when  perplexed  with  difficult  questions  in  his  study, 
start  out  over  fields  and  hills,  and  review  the  matter  in 
the  open  air.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  carry  the  breath  of 
the  fields  into  the  opening  of  our  addresses. 

But  when  the  speaker  cannot  take  this  form  of  exer- 
cise in  the  moments  just  preceding  speech,  he  may  easily 
find  a  substitute  for  it.     If  alone,  he  can  pace  back  and 


Tin:   Fii;sT   mo.mknt  of  speech.  195 

iurtli  and  swing  liis  arin.s  initil  the  circulation  becomes 
hrisk  and  pours  a  stream  of  arterial  blood  to  the  brain. 

Another  sinijdc  exercise  can  be  practiced  anywhere, 
ami  will  be  of"  <ii-eat  benefit.  Many  persons  injni'e 
themselves  by  speaking  too  nmch  Irom  the  throat.  This 
is  cause<l  by  imj)roper,  short,  and  shallow  breathing. 
To  breathe  ])roperly  is  bencHcial  at  any  time,  and  does 
minli  to  prcNcnl  or  i-cnicdy  ihi-oat  and  long  disease. 
J>iit  in  the  beginning  of  a  speech  it  is  (lonl)l\'  ini|)ortanl: 
when  once  nndei'  way,  there  will  be  no  time  to  think  of 
either  V(»ice  or  breath:  the  only  safe  plan,  then,  is  to  have 
the  right  mode  made  habitual  and  instinctive.  This 
will  l)c  greatly  j)romoted  if  just  before  Ix^ginning  we 
br<atiie  deeply  fnp  :i  few  mimUcs,  inflating  the  Inngs  to 
their  extremities  and  sending  the  warm  blood  to  the  very 
tips  of  the  fingers. 

Having  now  done  all  we  can  in  a<lvance,  nothing  re- 
mains but  to  rise  and  speak.  Pre|)aration  and  precau- 
tion are  passed.  Actual  woi'k — the  most  joyons,  thrill- 
ing, and  spiritual  of"  all  human  tasks — is  now  to  be  eu- 
tereil  upon. 


CHAPTER   VTT. 

TlIK  iNTitoDixriox. 

Tlic  time  lor  the  .speech  liaviiijz;  arrived,  we  will  now 
consider  its  separate  parts.  No  division  is  better  for  onr 
purpose  than  that  ('nij>loyed  in  a  previous  part  of  this 
work — a  three-fold  div^ision  into  introduction,  discussion, 
and  conclusion. 

A  good  introduction  is  exceedingly  valuable,  and  is  to 
be  sought  for  with  great  solicitude,  if  it  does  not  spon- 
taneously present  itself.  Some  kind  of  an  introduction 
is  inevitable,  for  there  will  always  be  a  first  moment 
when  silence  is  broken,  and  our  thoughts  introduced^ 
The  subsiding  nuu-mur  of  the  audience  tells  the  speaker 
that  the  time  of  his  trial  has  come.  If  he  is  very  sensi- 
tive, or  if  he  has  seldom,  if  ever,  spoken  before,  his 
pulse  beats  fast,  his  face  flushes,  and  an  indescribable 
feeling;  of  faiiitncs<  and  fear  thrills  cvcrv  nerve.  He 
may  wish  himself  anywhere  else,  but  there  is  now  no 
help  for  him.  He  nmst  arise,  and  for  the  time  stand  as 
the  mark  for  all  eyes  and  the  subject  of  all  thoughts. 

There  is  a  vast  diiference  between  reciting  and  extem- 
porizing in  these  opening  moments,  and  the  advantage 
seems  to  be  altogether  on  the  side  oi'  i-ccitation.  Every 
word  Is  in  its  proper  place  and  the  speaker  may  be  per- 

196 


THE    IXTRODrcTIOX.  197 

fectly  calm  and  xll-rolkrlal.  ilv  is  ^mv  thai  his 
memory  will  not  tail  him  in  the  opening,  and  encouraged 
by  that  assurance,  will  usually  thron-  his  whole  power 
into  his  first  sentences,  causing  his  voice  to  ring  clear 
and  loud  over  the  house. 

The  cxtcmporizer  is  in  a  tar  more  dillicult  position. 
He  is  sure  of"  nothing.  The  weight  of  the  whole  speech 
rests  heavily  upon  his  mind.  He  is  glancing  ahead, 
striving  to  forecast  the  coming  sentences,  as  well  as 
carrying  forward  those  gliding  over  the  tongue,  and,  dis- 
tracted by  this  double  labor,  his  nrst  expressions  may  be 
feeble  antl  ungraceful.  Yet  this  modesty  and  timidity  is 
no  real  loss:  it  goes  far  to  conciliate  an  audience  and 
secure  their  good-will.  We  can  scarce! v  fail  to  dis- 
tinguish memorized  irom  extemporized  discourses  by 
the  intro(Uictiou  ahuic. 

To  avoid  the  pain  and  hesitancy  of  an  unelaborated 
beginning,  some  speakers  write  and  memorize  the  open- 
ing passage.  This  may  aceompli.-li  the  innneiliate object, 
but  it  is  apt  to  be  at  the  expense  of  all  the  remainder  of 
thedisc(»urse.  The  mind  camiot  pass  easily  from  reciting 
to  S})ontaneous  origination  ;  and  the  voice,  being  too  freely 
used  at  first,  loses  its  power.  The  hearers,  lia\ing  list- 
ened to  highly  polished  language,  ai'e  less  disposed  to 
relish  the  plain  words  that  lull(iw,an(l  the  whole  speech, 
which,  like  the  Alj)ine  condoi-,  may  have  pitched  from 
the  loftiest  sunnnits,  falls  fast  and  far,  until  the  lowest 


198  EXTEMPOPtE    RPEECH, 

level  is  reached.  A  written  intrudiiction  may  be  modest 
and  unpretending,  but  unless  it  very  closely  imitates 
unstudied  speech,  painful  contrasts  and  disappointments 
are  inevitable. 

One  mode  of  avoiding  these  difficulties  is  to  make  no 
formal  introduction,  but  to  plunge  at  once  into  the  heart  of 
the  subject.  Sometimes,  Avhen  the  minds  of  speaker  and 
hearer  are  already  absorbed  by  the  same  general  topic, 
as  in  the  midst  of  a  heated  political  canvass,  this  mode 
is  very  good.  Under  such  circumstances,  an  interest 
may  soon  be  aroused  which  removes  all  eml)arrassment. 
But  usually  the  speaker's  mind  is  full  of  a  subject  which 
is  unfamiliar  and  indifferent  to  his  hearers.  It  then 
behooves  him  to  find  some  mode  of  gaining  their  atten- 
tion and  sympathy  before  he  takes  the  risk  of  arousing 
a  prejudice  against  his  subject  which  he  might  afterward 
strive  in  vain  to  overcome.  If  something  is  found  which 
can  l)e  made  to  bear  some  relation  to  his  subject,  Avithout 
too  violent  straining,  and  whicli  already  excites  interest 
in  their  minds,  it  will  be  flir  better  to  begin  with  that, 
and  lead  tliem  to  the  proper  theme  wIk-u  their  attention 
has  been  thoroughly  arouswl. 

The  introduction  should  ii(»t  be  left  to  the  chance  of 
tlie  moment.  It  may  often,  witli  great  propriety,  be 
prepared  after  all  otlier  pai-ts  of  the  s])eech  are  ])lamied. 
But  with  even  more  care  than  is  given  to  any  other  por- 
tion should   the   introduction  be  prearranged.      When 


THE    INTRODUCTION.  199 

once  the  wings  of  elorjuence  are  fnlly  spread  we  may  soar 
above  all  obstructions ;  but  in  starting  it  is  well  to  be 
assured  that  the  ground  is  clear  about  us. 

It  is  only  the  substance  and  not  the  words  of  the  in- 
troduction that  should  be  prepared.  A  single  sentence 
may  be  mentally  forecast,  but  much  beyond  would  be 
harmful;  and  even  this  sentence  should  be  simple 
and  easily  understood.  Anything  that  needs  explana- 
ti()n  is  very  much  out  of  place.  Neither  should  tlie 
introduction  be  so  striking  as  to  be  the  part  of  the  dis- 
course longest  remembered.  Rather  than  permit  the 
attenti(jn  to  be  distracted  in  that  manner,  it  would  be 
better  to  have  no  introduction. 

A  speaker  gains  much  if  he  can  at  the  outset  arrest 
the  attention  and  w  in  the  sympathy  of  his  hearers  and 
then  carry  these  over  to  his  proper  subject.  But  it  may 
be  assumed  as  certain,  that  no  kind  of  an  ai)ol()gy  will 
accomplish  this  (ibjcct — unless,  iiidcfd,  liic  sju^akcr  is 
such  a  favorite  that  everything  in  regard  ti>  his  liealth 
or  position  is  an  object  of  deep  solicitude  to  his  audience. 
A  popular  speaker  ^^'ho  happens  to  be  late  and  apologizes 
for  it  by  explaining  that  he  had  just  escaped  from  a  terrible 
railroad  accident  would  make  a  good  introduction.  A 
loved  pastor,  in  his  first  sermon  after  serious  illness, 
might  properly  begin  by  talking  of  his  amendment  and 
his  joy  at  addressing  his  flock  again.  But  these  are  rare 
exceptions.     The  speaker  about  to  make  any  kind  of  an 


200  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

apology  or  pci-sonal  rct'ereiHr  as  an  iiiti'odiiction,  may 
\vell  heed  Func/t^s  advice  to  persons  about  to  be  married: 
"  Don't." 

In  many  instances  it  is  not  easy  to  get  the  mere  atten- 
tion of  an  andience.  Tliey  come  together  from  many 
different  em])loyments  with  tlionglits  engaged  npon 
various  topics,  and  it  is  difficidt  to  remove  distracting 
inHiK'iiccs  and  fix  ;dl  minds  upon  one  subject.  Some- 
times a  startling  proposition,  in  the  nature  of  a  challenge, 
will  secure  the  ol)ject.  Earnestness  in  the  speaker  goes 
far  toward  it.  But  above  everything  else,  sameness  and 
monotony  nuist  be  carefully  avoided.  When  the  same 
audience  is  frequently  addi-essed,  vai'iety  becomes  essen- 
tial. The  writer  knew  of  a  minister  who  made  it  a 
rule  to  consider  the  nature,  reason,  and  manner  of  his 
subjects,  in  answer  to  the  supposed  questions  :  "  What 
is  it?  AMiy  is  it?  How  is  it?"  The  eloquence  of 
Paul  could  not  often  ha\'e  redeemed  the  faults  of  such 
an  arrangement. 

Some  inattention  may  be  expected  and  patiently  borne 
^\•ith  at  first.  Part  of  the  opening  words  may  be  lost — 
an  additional  reason  for  not  making  them  of  capital  im- 
])ortance  to  the  address.  It  is  useless  to  try  by  loud 
tones  and  violent  manner  to  dis]>el  indifFerence.  If  the 
speaker's  words  have  real  weight,  and  if  his  manner  indi- 
cates confidence,  one  by  one  the  audience  will  listen,  until 
that  electric  thrill  of  sympathy,  impossible  to  describe, 


THE   IKTRODUCTIOX.  201 

but  which  is  as  evident  to  the  praeticecl  orator  as  an 
accord  in  music,  tells  him  that  every  ear  is  open  to  his 
words,  and  that  his  thoughts  are  occupying  every  mind. 
Then  the  orator's  [)o\ver  is  fully  developed,  and  if  him- 
self and  his  theme  are  ecpial  to  the  occasion  it  is  delight- 
ful to  use  that  poNver.  This  silent,  pulsating  interest  is 
more  to  be  desired  than  vehement  applause,  for  it  cannot 
be  counterfeited,  and  it  indicates  that  the  heart  of  the 
assembly  has  been  reached  and  melted  by  the  tire  of 
eloquence,  and  is  now  ready  to  be  molded  into  any 
desired  form. 

There  arc  two  or  three  general  subjects  available  for 
introduction  which  every  speaker  would  do  well  to  study 
carefully,  and  which  will  do  nuich  tit  furnish  him  with 
the  means  of  properly  ajtproaching  his  theme.  We  will 
mention  the  most  useful  of  these,  premising  that  no  one 
mode  should  be  depended  upon  to  the  exclusion  of  others. 

A  good  mode  of  introduction  consists  in  a  compliment 
to  an  audience.  When  a  truthful  and  manly  compliment 
can  be  given  it  is  a  most  })leasant  and  agreeable  step 
toward  the  good-will  of  those  we  address;  but  if  used  on 
all  occasions  indiscriminately,  it  is  meaningless ;  if  trans- 
parently false,  it  is  repulsive  and  disgusting  ;  l)ut\\hen 
true,  there  is  no  reason  whv  it  shoidd  not  be  eni|)loyed. 

There  are  several  good  introductions  of  the  compli- 
mentary character  in  the  24th  and  20th  chaptei's  of  Acts. 
'    When  the  orator,  Tertullus,  accused  Paid,  he  began  by 


202  EXTEMPORE    .SPEECH. 

skillful,  but,  from  the  standpoint  of  his  clients,  very  in- 
sincere flattery : 

"  Seeing  that  by  thee  we  enjoy  great  quietness,  and 
that  very  worthy  deetls  are  done  unto  this  nation  by 
thv  providence,  we  accept  it  always,  and  in  all  places, 
most  noble  Felix,  with  all  thankfulness." 

No  fault  can  be  found  with  the  form  of  this  introduc- 
tion, but  it  was  untrue,  for  the  men  in  whose  names  it 
was  made  were  the  very  reverse  of  thankful  to  the 
Koman  Governor. 

Paul  was  far  too  skillful  to  lose  the  advantage  of 
beginning  his  address  with  a  compliment,  and  too  honest 
to  give  a  false  one.  There  was  one  fact  over  which  he 
could  rejoice.  Felix  had  been  long  enough  in  office  to 
know  the  ways  of  his  enemies ;  so  Paul  uses  that  as  an 
effective  and  truthful  compliment,  while  jM'ofessing  his 
own  confidence  in  his  cause, 

"  Forasmuch  as  I  know  that  thou  hast  been  for 
many  years  a  Judge  unto  this  nation,  I  do  the  more 
cheerfully  answer  for  myself,  because  that  thou  mayest 
understand." 

In  the  same  exquisite  combination  of  truthfulness  and 
conqjliment  to  a  bad  man,  Paul  begins  his  address  when 
before  King  Agrippa : 

"  I  think  myself  happy.  King  Agrippa,  because  I 
shall  answer  for  myself  this  day  before  thee,  touching  all 
the  things  whereof  I  am  accused  of  the  Jews;  especially 


THE    IXTRODUCTION.  203 

because  I  know  ihee  to  be  expert  in  all  customs  and 
questions  which  are  among  the  Jews ;  wherefore,  I  be- 
seech thee  to  hear  me  patiently." 

It  should  always  be  remembered,  however,  that  com- 
pliments, even  in  the  estimation  of"  those  eom])limented, 
are  only  grateful  in  proportion  to  their  judicious  char- 
acter. Their  hollowness,  if  insincere,  is  easily  detected 
and  thoroughly  despised. 

Effective  introductions  can  also  be  constructed  from 
those  t(jpics  of  the  day  which  may  be  supposed  to  fill  all 
minds.  A  few  words  on  such  subjects,  falling  in  \\ith 
the  general  current  of  thought,  may  easily  lead  u]>  to  the 
orator's  special  toi)ic.  The  newspapers  may  thus  furnish 
us,  especially  while  some  striking  event  is  yet  recent, 
with  the  means  of  arresting  the  attention  of  news})aper 
read(M's  at  our  first  words. 

Another  fi:oo(l  mode  of  introduction  is  that  ol' locality. 
The  ]>coi)lc  of  any  town  may  be  jinsumed  iamiliar  with 
the  objects  or  events  of  interest  for  which  their  own 
|)lace  is  celebrated.  A  ludicrous  instance  of  this  is  nar- 
rated of  the  eloquent  Daniel  Webster.  He  liad  visited 
Xiai:ara  Falls  and  was  to  make  an  <»rationat  Rufiido  the 
same  dav,  but,  unfortunately,  he  sat  too  long  over  the 
wine  aiter  dinner.  M'hcn  he  arose  to  speak,  the  ora- 
torical instinct  struggled  with  difficulties,  as  he  declared, 
"Gentlemen,  I  have  been  to  look  upon  your  mag — 
"mag — magnificent  cataract,  one  hundred — and  forty — 


204  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

seven — feet  liig;li !  Geiitleincii,  (livcce  and  Rmne  in 
their  palmiest  days  never  had  a  cataract  one  liuii(h-cd — 
and  forty — seven — feet  high  !" 

Anotlier  mode  of  introduction  whicli  may  be  very  use- 
ful under  proper  restrictions  is  that  of  citing  some  rele- 
vant remark  made  by  an  author  w  liosc  name  cairics  great 
weight,  or  so  pointed  in  itself  as  to  at  once  arrest  attention. 
A  great  picture,  some  feature  of  a  landscape,  a  great  his- 
torical event,  may  be  cited  in  the  same  way.  This 
method  of  citation  is  capable  of  very  Avide  application. 
If  the  sentiment  or  im})ression  made  by  the  citation  is 
directly  opposite  to  that  w  liich  the  speaker  wishes  to  pro- 
duce this  will  increase  rather  than  diminish  interest,  as 
the  enjoyment  of  contrast  and  controversy  is  very  keen ; 
but  the  speaker  should  feel  confident  of  his  ability  to 
overcome  the  influence  of  the  citation  when  thus  hostile. 
A  favorite  introduction  to  aljolition  lectures  in  a  former 
generation  was  the  quotation  of  some  strong  and  shocking 
declaration  of  the  rightfulness  or  beneficence  of  slavery. 

The  last  mode  of  introduction  we  will  notice  is  very 
similar  in  character  and  may  be  termed  that  of  percep- 
tion. Something  has  been  seen,  heard,  or  imagined  by 
the  speaker,  which,  because  of  its  simple,  tangible  char- 
acter, is  easily  grasped,  and  yet  leads  by  some  subtle  an- 
alogy to  his  topic.  He  has  seen  a  ragged,  desolate  boy 
on  the  street;  he  describes  that  poor  fellow  to  his  audience; 
and  then  finds  them  far  more  ready  to  listen  to  a  plea 


THE    IXTEODUrTIOX.  205 

for  orphan  asylums,  Ibr  education,  lor  hi'ttcr  city  gov- 
ernment, for  anytliini;-  which  can  have  any  bearing  upon 
the  welfare  of  the  hoy. 

Here,  then,  are  five  prinei})lcs  upon  wliich  appropriate 
intro(hietions  may  be  construct wl.  Many  others  might 
be  named,  but  these  cover  a  wide  range  and  may  be  very 
useful.     They  are : 

1.  Com[)liments. 

2.  Current  Events. 

3.  Local  Allusion. 

4.  Citations. 

5.  Things  seen,  heard,  or  imagined. 

A  great  calamity  may  come  to  a  s])eaker  from  a  bad 
iiitrotUiction,  Sjx'aUers  who  are  great  in  everything  else 
often  fail  at  this  point.  Some  make  their  introductions 
too  complicated,  and  thus  defeat  their  own  end,  as  surely 
as  the  engineer  who  gives  his  railroad  such  steep  grades 
that  no  train  can  ])ass  over  it.  Others  deliver  a  string 
of  mere  plathudes  and  weary  their  audience  from  the 
beginning. 

A\'hen  from  these  or  otlu  r  causes  our  addi'css  is  mis- 
begun,  the  consecjUcnccs  may  be  sei'ious.  The  thought 
settles  upon  the  speaker  with  icy  weight  that  he  is  fail- 
ing. This  conviction  paralyzes  all  his  faculties.  He 
talks  on,  but  grows  more  and  more  embai'rassed.  Inco- 
herent sentences  are  stanunered  out  which  require  painfid 
explanation  to   prevent    them    iVom    degenerating    into 


206  EXTFMF'ORK    SPEEfll. 

jHTll'ct  n(iiiscii,>('.  The  ((iilliiic  of  his  plan  (li>s(»lvo.s  into 
mist.  Tilt'  pdiiits  he  iiitciidcd  tn  make  \\lii<'h  scfiiKil 
stronuaiid  iiii|M)rtaiit  now  lodU  trivial.  \\  itli  little  liopc 
ahead  he  hinndcis  on.  riic  room  throws  dark  hcfore 
liim,  and  in  tiie  ex<'t'ss  of  his  misery  he  h»n»;s  lor  the 
time  w  hen  he  can  elos(>  w  ilhont  al)solnt('  (lis<rraee.  lint 
a  his  I  the  end  seem>  far  o  IT,  and  he  scarclu's  in  vain  for 
some  avenne  of  esea|)e.  Tliere  is  none.  His  throat 
becomes  dr\  and  parehed,  and  command  of  \-oiee  is  lo,-t. 
The  audience  urttw  i-estive,  ((>r  they  ai"e  tortured  as  well 
a.s  the  speaker,  and  if  lie  were  malicious  and  had  time  to 
thiidv  about  it,  he  miiiht  find  some  alleviation  in  that. 
No  one  can  help  him.  At  length,  in  sheer  des])eration, 
he  does  Avhat  he  ouj^ht  to  have  done  long  before — simply 
stops  and  sits  down — perhaps  hurling  some  swelling 
morsel  of  eommon})laee,  as  a  parting  volley,  at  the  au- 
dience— bathed  in  sweat,  and  fettling  that  he  is  disgraced 
forever !  If  he  is  very  weak  or  foolish,  he  resolves 
never  to  speak  again  without  having  every  word  writteri 
out  before  him ;  if  wiser,  he  only  resolves,  not  only  to 
understand  his  speech,  but  how  to  begin  it. 


niAPTER  VITT. 

Pi{()(;hk.s.s  of  thh:  Si'kkcii. 

The  passage  from  the  introduction  to  the  disnission 
should  be  made  snio(»thIy  and  uradnally.  To  a<(<>iii- 
pli.sh  tliis,  and  to  strike  the  .-iibjccl  at  just  th(!  ri^ht 
anirlo,  continuing:  ail  tiic  iutfi'cst  prcvionsly  excited,  is  a 
most  important  aehievemenl.  A  definite  object  is  a  jj^roat 
assistance  in  thi>  pail  oi'  the  \vori<.  If  the  ol)jeet  is 
dearlv  in  view,  we  1:0  riiilit  up  \i)  it  with  no  wastefl 
words,  an<l  the  p:'<i|»le  follow  our  unichmce  Ixn-ause  they 
sec  that  we  are  not  pro;'eedin^  at  random.  l>ut  with  no 
strong  purpose  we  are  apt  to  steer  about  our  subject 
witliout  ever  bein^  (piite  ready  to  enter  upon  it.  The 
more  brilliant  the  intr(»(lnction  the  more  ditticult  this 
transition  will  be.  Ihit  all  these  difficulties  may  be 
overcome  with  the  aid  of  a  well-const rneted  plan,  and 
then  all  the  triiunphs  of  oratory  are  Ix'fore  us. 

There  is  great  pleasure  in  si»eaking  well.  An  assembly 
hanging  on  the  words  and  thinking  the  thoughts  of  a 
single  man,  gives  to  him  the  most  subtle  kind  of  flattery, 
liut  he  nnist  not  inhale  its  fragrance  heedlessly,  or  his 
fiill  will  be  sjK-edy  and  disastrous.  The  triumphs  of 
oratorv  are  very  fascinating — the  ability  to  sway  our 
fellows  at   pleasure,  to  bind  them  willing  ca|)tives  with 

207 


208  EXTEMP()F{E    SPEECH. 

the  strong  chain  of  our  tlioii^lit — prixhu-os  a  delirious 
and  intoxicating;  sense  of  power.  IJut  in  tlie  best  of 
instances  such  aciiievenients  are  very  transient,  and  ludess 
taken  advantage  of  at  the  moment  to  work  our  clierisluMl 
purposes,  the  opportunity  is  lost.  Even  during  a  single 
address  it  is  hard  to  maintain  tlie  influence  of  a  happy 
moment.  Speakers  sometimes  utter  a  great  and  noble 
thought  and  the  nameless  thrill  of  eloquence  is  felt,  but 
some  irrelevant  phrase  or  common-place  sentiment  dis- 
solves the  charm.  To  avoid  this,  the  whole  discourse 
must  be  animated  with  some  controlling  purpose,  and  in 
its  general  character,  tend  upw  ard,  until  its  close. 

The  law  of  climax  ought  to  be  carefully  considered  by 
the  speaker.  There  may  be  more  than  one  culmination  of 
interest  in  an  address,  separated  by  an  interval  less  absorb- 
ing and  powerful,  but  this  decline  should  only  be  allowefl 
in  order  to  prepare  a  second  or  third  climax  grander  than 
all  before.  To  violate  this  rule  and  have  a  speech 
"  flatten  out  "  toward  its  close,  is  a  fearful  error.  Better 
reduce  the  length  of  the  Avhole  by  one-half  or  three- 
fourths,  and  maintain  interest  and  attention  to  the  end. 
A  few  miscellaneous  considerations  in  regard  to  the 
style  and  manner  of  the  speech  may  be  inserted  here  as 
well  as  anvAvhere. 

Diifuseness  is  often  supposed  to  be  a  necessary  quality 
of  extemporaneous  speech.  jNfany  s])eakers  do  fall  into 
it,  but  they  need   not.     They  are  diffuse  because  they 


rnorjKEss  OF  THE  speech.  209 

are  unwilling  or  unable  to  .say  exactly  what  they  mean, 
but  come  near  it,  and  continue  their  efforts  until  they 
are  satisfied.  They  furnish  no  clear  view  of  anv  idea, 
but  only  a  kind  of  twilight  illumination.  This  seri- 
ous fault  may  be  overcome  in  spontaneous  sju'cch  as 
readily  as  in  writing.  He  who  thinks  clearly  and 
forcibly  will  talk  in  the  same  manner.  P^xquisite  finish 
and  elal)orate  verl)al  ai'i-angement  are  not  to  be  looked 
for  in  off-hand  speech,  but  each  idea  may  be  expressed 
w  ith  gi-eat  force,  vigor,  and  accuracy  of  shading. 

This  ability  to  say  precisely  what  we  mean  in  few- 
words,  and  at  the  first  effoi-t,  constitutes  one  of  the  great 
l)eauties  of  a  spoken  style.  The  heart'r  is  filled  willi 
iXratefnl  surprise  when  some  new  and  living  idea  is  sud- 
denly placed  before  him  clothed  in  a  single  word  or 
sentence.  A  diffuse  speaker  gives  so  many  premonitions 
of  his  thought  that  the  audience  have  guessed  it,  and 
may  even  come  to  believe  that  they  have  always  know  n 
it,  l)efore  he  has  made  his  formal  presentment.  Of 
course,  they  are  wearie<l,  and  never  give  him  credit  for 
an  original  concejition. 

If  troubled  with  this  Ihidt,  fre(piently  foi-ecast  what 
to  say;  drive  it  into  the  smallest  number  of  vivid, 
expressive  words  ;  then,  without  memoiMzing  the  l;.n- 
guage,  reproduce  the  same  thought  liriefiy  in  the  hurry 
,  of  speech.  If  not  successful  in  making  it  as  brief  as 
before,  repeat  the  effort.     This  exercise  will,  in  time, 


210  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

give  the  ability  to  coiulen.se.  But  to  exercise  it  the  temp- 
tation to  fine  hinjruage  must  be  overcome.  Xo  sentence 
should  be  iiiti'ixhK'cd  Ibr  mere  i;littcr  or  sparkle:  a 
single  unnecessary  word  may  reipiii'e  otiiers  to  justify  or 
explain  it,  and  thus  may  ruin  a  whole  discourse.  The 
danger  of  showy  language  in  speech  is  far  greater  than 
in  wa'iting,  for  if  the  writer  be  drawn  too  far  awav  from 
his  subject  he  can  strike  out  the  ott'ending  sentences  and 
begin  again,  while  the  speaker  has  but  one  trial.  If 
beauty  lies  in  his  way,  well ;  but  if  not,  he  shoidd  never 
abandon  his  course  to  seek  it. 

We  have  seen  many  directions  for  ''expanding 
thought,"  and  have  heard  young  speakers  admire  the 
ease  and  grace  of  such  expansion.  But  thoughts  are 
not  like  medicines  which  require  dilution  to  be  more 
palatable.  It  is  better  to  give  the  essence  of  an  idea 
and  2:0  on  to  something  else.  There  should  be  clear  and 
ample  expression ;  condensation  carried  to  the  point  of 
obscurity  Avould  be  a  fault ;  but  nothing  more  than  clear- 
ness is  needed.  If  thoughts  are  few  it  is  better  to  delve 
for  others  rather  than  to  attenuate  and  stretch  what  we 
have. 

A  popular  error  exists  as  to  the  kind  of  language  best 
adapted  to  the  purposes  of  oratory.  High-sounding 
epithets  and  Latinized  words  are  considered  the  fitting 
medium  of  speech.  These  may  overawe  ignorant 
hearers,  but  can  never  strike  the  chords  of  living  sym- 


PROCiEESS    OF    THE    SPEECH.  211 

pathy  wlik'li  bind  all  hearts  together.  If  we  U:^e  terms 
hanl  to  he  uiKlerstood  the  effort  put  forth  by  htarers  to 
master  their  meaning  is  just  so  nuieh  subtraetal  from  the 
force  of  the  a(l(h'ess.  The  homely  Saxon  Avords  that 
dwell  on  the  lips  of  the  [)e()[)le  will  unload  their  wealth 
of  nieaiiing  in  the  heart  as  soon  as  the  sound  strikes  the 
ear.  I'nconunon  words  build  a  barrier  around  thought ; 
fiuiiiliar  ones  are  like  a  railroad  over  which  it  glides 
swiltly  to  its  (k'stination. 

All  debased  and  slang  words  should  be  rejected,  unless 
the  speech  is  to  pai'lahe  of  (he  nature  of  burles(pie: 
we  do  not  adsocate  "the  fiuuiliarity  that  breeds  con- 
tempt:" this  is  also  a  hurtful  extreme.  Tjic  two  great 
recpiisites  in  the  use  of  words  are  that  they  shyukl 
exactly  express  our  i<k'as,  and  that  they  shoukl  be 
fiuniliar:  the  charms  of  melody  and  association  are 
not  to  be  despised,  but  they  are  sc»condary. 

Every  speecli  shoukl  have  its  strong  points,  upon 
which  especial  reliance  is  placed,  A  skillful  general 
has  his  choice  battalions  reserved  to  pierce  the  enemy's 
line  at  the  decisive  moment,  and  win  the  battle.  In  both 
the  physical  and  the  mental  contest,  it  is  important  to^ 
])lace  these  reserves  aright  that  all  their  weight  may  be 
felt. 

A  crisis  occurs  in  nearly  all  living  addresses — a 
moment  in  which  a  strong  argument  or  a  fervid  appeal 
will  accomplish  our  purpose — ^ju.st  as  a  vigorous  charge, 


212  EXTKMI'Oill-:    fSl'EKCir. 

or  the  arrival  of  reiiiturceiiients,  will  turn  the  doubtful 
.scale  of  battle.  The  .sj)caker,  from  the  openinn;  of  his 
speech,  should  have  his  object  clearly  iu  view  and  dri\i' 
steadily  toward  it,  and  when  within  reach,  })ut  forth  his 
whole  power  in  a  mighty  eifbrt,  achieving  the  result  for 
which  the  Avhole  speech  was  devised.  If  the  right 
opportunity  is  neglected  it  seldom  returns,  and  an  hour's 
talk  may  fail  to  accomplish  as  much  as  one  good  burning 
sentence  thi-own  in  at  the  right  time.  Much  talk  ai"tcr 
the  real  [)urpose  of  an  address  is  a(;complislie<^l  also  is 
useless  and  even  perilous. 

It  has  all  along  been  taken  tor  granted  that  the 
speiiker  has  something  worthy  to  say.  Without  this  a 
serious  address  deserves  no  success,  although  under  some 
circumstances  nothing  but  sound  to  tickle  the  ears  is 
desired.  Such  speeches  are  well  enough  in  their  Avay, 
but  they  rank  with  the  performances  on  the  piano  by 
which  a  young  lady  entertains  her  uncritical  visitors. 
They  cannot  be  called  speeches  in  any  real  sense.  The  fact 
that  a  speaker  has  a  solid  and  worthy  foundation  of 
knowledge  and  an  adequate  purpose  gives  him  confidence. 
He  knows  that  if  his  words  are  not  instinct  with  music, 
and  if  the  pictures  of  his  fancy  are  not  painted  in  the 
brightest  colors,  he  has  yet  a  just  claim  upon  the  atten- 
tion of  his  hearers. 

It  is  not  necessary  that  the  orator's  thouglits  should 
be  exceedingly  profound ;  the  most  vital  truths  lie  near 


PROGRESS    OF    THE    SPEECTT,  21  f*, 

tlie  surfaro,  witliiii  reach  of  all.  But  mrrt  mfii  do  not 
dwell  long-  enough  upon  one  subject  to  master  its  obvious 
features,  and  when  some  one  does  fully  gather  up  and 
fairly  present  what  belongs  to  a  worthy  theme  it  is  like 
a  new  revelation.  A  good  illustration  of  this  is  found 
in  the  sublimity  Dean  Stanley  imparts  to  the  story  of 
the  Exodus  of  Israel.  Few  new  facts  are  ])i'esented,  but 
tliese  are  so  arranged  and  vivified  by  a  thoughtful  mind 
that  the  subject  glows  into  new  meaning,  "^rhe  extem- 
poraneous s])eakcr  may  have  abundant  time  for  such 
studv  of  every  topic  within  his  range  of  addresses,  and  if 
h(>  uses  it  aright,  he  ("an  soon  wield  a  charm  far  beyond 
any  jingling  combination  of  words. 

When  an  orator  stands  before  an  audience,  shall  he 
expect  to  overwhelm  them  by  his  eloquence?  Such 
a  result  is  possible  but  not  prol)able;  and  it  can  never  be 
safelv  cah'ulated  ujion.  It'  persons  attempt  to  be  greatly 
eloquent  on  all  occasions,  they  are  apt  to  end  by  becom- 
ing  ridiculous.  Good  sense  and  solid  usefulness  are  bet- 
ter objects  of  endeavor. 

Anv  man  who  studies  a  subject  until  he  knows  more 
altgut  it  than  his  neighbors  can  interest  them  in  a  fire- 
side explanation,  if  they  care  for  the  subject  at  all:  he 
tells  his  facts  in  a  ])lain  style  and  is  understood.  Many 
j)ersons  will  listen  delighted  to  a  man's  conversation 
until  midnight,  but  will  fall  aslec])  in  ten  minutes  if  he 
tries  to  make  a  speech  to  them.     In  the  first  case  he 


214  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

talks,  and  is  simple  and  nnaffl'cted ;  in  (lit'  otht-r  he  speaks 
and  feels  that  he  must  use  a  style  stiifcned  up  for  the 
occasion. 

AVhen  Henry  Clay  was  asked  how  he  became  so  elo- 
quent, he  said  that  he  could  tell  nothin<j^  about  it ;  all  he 
knew  was  that  when  he  commenced  an  address  he  had 
only  the  desire  to  speak  what  he  had  prepared  (not 
memorized),  and  adhered  to  this  line  of  preparation 
until  he  was  enwrapped  in  the  subject,  and  carried  away, 
he  knew  not  how.  This  was  a  good  course,  for  if  the 
extraordinary  inspiration  did  not  come,  a  good  and  sen- 
sible speech  was  secured  at  any  rate. 

Some  of  these  considerations  may  be  of  service  if 
weighed  in  advance,  but  when  the  speaker  once  ascends 
the  platform  he  must  rely  on  his  own  tact  for  the  manage- 
ment of  all  details.  Closely  observing  the  condition 
of  the  audience,  and  taking  advantage  of  every  favor- 
ing element,  he  moves  steadily  toward  his  object.  With 
an  unobstructed  road  before  him,  which  he  has  traveled 
in  thought  until  it  is  familiar,  he  will  advance  with 
ease  and  certainty.  As  he  looks  ujion  interested  faces, 
new  ideas  arise,  and  if  fitting,  are  woven  into  har- 
mony with  previous  preparations,  often  with  thrilling 
eifect.  Each  emotion  enkindled  by  sympathy  embodies 
itself  in  words  that  move  th^  heart  as  prepared  language 
could  not  do,  and  each  moment  his  own  conviction  sinks 
deeper  into  the  hearts  of  his  hearers. 


PROGRESS    OF    THE    SPEECH.  215 

There  are  tlirer  principal  ways  of  concluding  a  speech. 
One  of  the  most  <;racel"ul  is  to  condense',  a  clear  view  of 
the  whole  argument  and  tendency  of  the  address  into  a 
few  words,  and  leave  the  summing  up  thus  made  to  pro- 
duce its  ow'n  effect.  Discourses  aiming  principallv  to 
produce  conviction  may  very  well  be  concluded  in  this 
manner.  To  throw  the  whole  sweep  of  an  argument, 
every  point  of  which  has  been  pi;eviously  elaborated, 
into  a  few  telling  sentences  will  conti-ibute  powerfully  to 
make  the  impression  permanent. 

Another  and  very  common  mode  is  to  close  with  an 
a])plicati(»n  or  with  practical  remarks.  When  the  address 
is  a  sermon,  this  form  of  closing  is  frerpicntly  termed  an 
exhortation,  and  the  whole  speech  is  made  to  bear  upon 
the  duty  of  the  moment.  The  conclusion  should  be 
closely  connected  with  the  remainder  of  the  address:  if 
it  be  so  general  in  character  as  to  fit  any  speech  it  will  be 
<if  little  service  to  aiiv. 

A  conclusion  shoidd  always  be  short  and  contain  no  new 
matter.  Few  things  are  more  disastrous  than  the  practice 
of  drawing  toward  an  end  and  then  laimching  out 
into  a  new  discussion.  All  good  things  that  have  been 
said,  all  previous  favorable  Impressions,  are  obliterated 
by  this  capital  fault.  We  should  be  careful  to  finish  the 
discussion  of  our  theme  before  we  indicate  that  the  con- 
clusion has  been  reached.  And  if,  at  the  moment  of 
finishing,   we   happen  to  think   of  anything,  however 


216  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

vital,  wliicli  lias  hccii  omitted,   it    iiad   Welter   l)e  left   to 
aiiothei'  time  and  plaee  ;dt(i,<:ctlier. 

Athird  method  of  elosinii  is  to  simply  break  oif  when 
the  last  item  is  finished.  The  fnll  developracnt  of  the  dis- 
eourse  is  thus  made  its  endino-,  care  heinij  taken  that  the 
last  item  diseussed  shall  he  of  weight  and  dignity.  This 
is  hy  no  means  the  easiest  form  of  conelnsion,  hut  rightly 
managed  it  is  one  of  the  most  etteetive. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

Three  Plans  of  Great  Addresses. 

For  tlic  pur])().se  of  slio\vin<r  liow  conipletely  speech 
ol'  all  kinds  may  Ik'  eiuhraced  in  a  hriet"  skeleton,  we 
placi.'  before  the  reader  three  ad(h-esses  of  the  most  varied 
characteristics,  yet  each  most  aihnirable  in  its  own  de- 
])artment.  One  of  these  is  English  in  origin,  one  Greek, 
and  the  last  may  well  be  styled  universal,  comprising, 
as  it  does,  eveiy  element  ol'  excellence. 

At  the  end  (»f  the  first  vear  of  the  o-reat  war  waited 
between  Sparta  and  Athens,  Pericles  pronounccnl  a  funeral 
oration  over  the  dead  m  ho  had  fallen  in  the  Athenian 
cause.  ISIuch  of  the  language  employed  may,  perhaps, 
be  ascribed  to  the  invention  of  the  historian,  Thucydides, 
but  the  substance  and  many  of  the  strong  expressions 
l)robably  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  great  statesman  and 
orator  of  Athens.  The  speech  possesses  the  sim])licity 
and  classic  grace  for  which  Grecian  art  has  ever  been 
celebrated.  The  orator's  SUBJECT  was  furnished  by  the 
occasion — the  worthiness  of  the  saci'ifice  which  the  fallen 
heroes  had  made  to  the  greatness  and  glory  of  their 
native  land.  His  object  was  to  encourage  the  living 
to  continue  the  war  Avith  ardor  a'.id  support  its  priva- 
tions   with    fortitude.      There   are    no    digressions,    no 

^  217 


218  EXTE^fPOPvE    SPEEOTT. 

anecdotes,  and  scarcrly  ;tiiv  illii>tratu)i)>.  Thf  gl"i"y  of 
Athens  and  of  her  dead  heroes  is  tlie  one  theme  ever 
before  him.  This  severe  simplicity  is  carried  too  far  to 
be  entirely  pleasing  to  modern  taste,  but  the  eifect  is 
certainly  grand  and  sublime.  A  few  very  strong 
sentences  relieve  the  general  tone  of  clear,  calm  desciip- 
tion.     The  translation  is  that  of  Professor  Jowett. 

OUTLINE  OF  FUNERAL  SPEECH. 

Occasion. — The  burial  of  those  Athenians  who 
fell  in  the  first  year  of  tlie  Peloponnesian  AVar. 

Subject. — The  glory   of  Atiiens   and    of   the 
heroes  who  died  for  her. 

Object. — To  nourish  })atriotism  and  fan  warlike 
enthusiasm. 

Introduction. — Inadequacy  of  words   to   tlie 
praise  of  the  brave. 

I.  The  Source  of  Athenian  Greatness. 

1.  The  praise  of  ancestors  who  procured  freedom 
and  empire  for  the  city. 

2.  Excellencies  of  the  form  of  our  Government. 

3.  Refinements  of  our  life. 

4.  In  war  we  are  an   over-match    for   all  our 
enemies. 

5.  All  our  citizens  are  interested  in  public  affairs, 
which  are  freely  discussed. 

6.  In  short,  Athens  is  the  school  of  Hellas. 


THKEE    PLANS    OF    GREAT    ADDRESSES,  219 

II.  The  Praise  of  the  Fallen. 

1.  The  above  j)raise  of  the  city  is  the  praise  of 
the  dead,  for  they  made  her  great. 

2.  Deatli  is  tlie   final   seal  of  their  virtues  and 
secures  them  from  all  chano^e  of  fortune. 

3.  The  whole  earth   is   full  of  their  glory,  and 
their  examj)le  is  precious  to  their  country. 

III.  Comfort  to  Kindred. 

1 .  To  parents. 

2.  To  sons,  brothers,  and  Avidows. 
Conclusion, — Athens   crowns   her    heroes    by 

these  honors,  and  by  maintaining  their  children 
at  public  cost. 

Funeral  Speech. 
"  Most  of  those  Avho  have  spoken  here  before  me  have 
commended  the  lawgiver  who  added  this  oration  to  our 
other  funeral  customs;  it  seemed  to  them  a  worthy  thing 
that  such  an  lionor  should  be  given  at  theii-  burial  to  the 
dead  who  have  fallen  on  tlie  field  of  battle.  But  I 
should  have  preferred  that,  when  men's  deeds  have  been 
l)rave,  tluy  should  be  honored  in  deed  only,  and  with 
such  an  Inmor  as  this  public  fimcral,  which  you  are  now 
witnessing.  Then  the  reputation  of  many  world  not 
have  been  im])eriled  on  tlu'  elo(|uence  or  want  ol"  clo- 
(|uence  of  one,  and  their  virtues  belicvcnl  or  not  as  he 
spoke  well  or  ill.  For  it  is  dilficult  to  say  neither  too 
little  nor  too  nu.di ;  and  even  moderation  is  apt  not  to 
^give  the  im])ression  of  truthfulness.  The  friend  of  the 
dead  who  knows   the  facts  is   likelv  to  think  that  the 


220  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

words  (»f  tlic  speaker  fall  sliorl  nl"  hi.-  know  Icdue  and  of 
his  wishes;  another  who  is  n(»t  so  well  iidoi-med,  w  hei; 
■he  hears  of  anything-  whieii  snrpasses  his  own  ])(»\vers, 
M'ill  beenvions  and  will  suspeet  exaggeration.  Mankind 
are  tolerant  of  the  praises  of  others  so  long  a.s  eiicli  hearer 
thinks  that  he  can  do  as  well  or  nearly  as  well  himself, 
but  when  the  speaker  rises  above  him  jealousy  is  aroused 
and  he  begins  to  be  incrwhdous.  However,  since  our 
ancestors  have  set  the  seal  of  their  approval  upon  the 
])ractice,  T  must  obey,  and  to  the  utmost  of  my  poAver 
shall  endeavor  to  satisfy  the  wishes  and  beliefs  of  all 
who  hear  me. 

"  I  will  speak  first  of  our  ancestors,  for  it  is  right  and 
becomhig  that  now,  when  we  are  lamenting  tlie  dead,  a 
tribute  should  be  })aid  to  their  memory.  There  has 
never  been  a  time  when  they  did  not  inhabit  this  land, 
which  by  their  valor  they  have  handed  down  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  and  we  have  received  from  them  a 
free  State.  But  if  they  were  worthy  of  praise,  still  more 
were  our  fathers,  who  added  to  their  inheritance,  and 
after  many  a  struggle  transmitted  to  us,  their  sons,  this 
great  ejupire.  And  we  ourselves  assembled  here  to-day, 
who  are  still  most  of  us  in.  the  vigor  of  life,  have  chief! v 
dune  the  work  of  improvement,  and  have  richly  endowed 
our  city  with  all  things,  so  that  slie  is  suflficient  for  her- 
self both  in  peace  and  war.  Of  the  military  exploits  by 
which  our  various  possessions  were  acquired,  or  of  the 
energy  with  which  we  or  our  fathers  drove  back  the  tide 
of  war,  Hellenic  or  Barbarian,  I  will  not  speak  ;  for  the 
tale  would  be  long  and  is  familiar  to  you.  But  before 
I  praise  the  dead,  I  should  like  to  j)oint  out  by  what 


THREE    PLANS    OF    (iKEAT    ADDRESSES.  221 

principles  of"  action  wc  rose  to  power,  and  nuder  what 
institutions  and  tb.rouuli  what  manner  of  life  our  empire 
became  tireat.  Yov  I  conceive  tliat  sucli  thoughts  are 
not  unsnited  to  tlu;  occasion,  and  that  this  numerous 
assembly  of  citizens  and  strangers  may  ])rofitably  listen 
to  them. 

**  Our  form  of  government  does  not  enter  into  rivaliy 
with  the  institutions  of  others.  A\'e  do  not  copy  our 
neighbors,  but  are  an  example  to  them.  It  is  true  tliat 
we  are  called  a  democracy,  for  the  achninistration  is  in 
the  hands  of  the  many  and  not  of  the  few.  lUit  while 
the  law  secures  equal  justice  to  all  alike  in  their  ])i-ivate 
disputes,  the  claim  of  excellence  is  also  recognized  ;  and 
when  a  citizen  is  in  any  way  distinguished,  he  is  ytre- 
ferred  to  the  public  service,  not  as  a  matter  of  j)rivilege, 
but  as  the  reward  of  merit.  Neither  is  poverty  a  bar, 
but  a  man  may  benefit  his  coinitrv  whatever  be  the 
obsctirity  of  his  condition.  There  is  no  exclusiveness  in 
our  public  life,  and  in  our  private  intercourse  we  are  not 
suspicious  of  (mo  another,  nor  angry  with  our  neighbor 
if  he  does  what  he  likes  :  we  do  not  put  on  our  sour 
looks  at  him,  which,  though  iiarmless,  are  not  pleasant. 
AVhile  we  are  thus  unconstrained  in  our  ]irivate  inter- 
course, a  s])irit  of  reverence  ])ervades  (»ur  pnblic  acts; 
we  are  prevented  from  doing  wrong  by  res])cct  for 
authority  and  for  the  laws,  having  an  especial  regard  to 
those  which  are  ordained  for  the  protection  of  the  injured 
as  well  as  to  those  unwritten  laws  which  bring  upon  the 
transgressor  of  them  the  re])robation  of  the  general  sen- 
timent. 

''And  we  have  not  forgotten  to  provide  for  oui-  weary 


222  EXTEMI'OKE    SrEECH. 

spirits  inanv  relaxations  from  toil ;  we  have  regular 
games  and  saeritices  thronghotit  the  year;  at  liome  the 
stvlc  of  our  life  is  refined;  and  the  dcliuht  which  we 
dailv  feel  in  all  these  things  helps  to  banish  melancholy. 
Because  of  the  greatness  of  our  city  the  fruits  of  th(( 
whole  earth  How  in  u])on  us;  so  that  we  enjoy  the  goods 
of  other  countries  as  freely  us  of  our  own. 

"  Then,  again,  our  military  training  is  in  many  respects 
suj)erior  to  that  of  our  adversaries.  Our  eity  is  thrown 
open  to  the  world,  and  we  never  expel  a  foreigner  (>r 
j)re\^ent  him  from  seeing  or  learning  anything  of  which 
the  seereet  if  revealed  to  an  enemy  might  profit  him. 
We  rely  not  u])on  management  or  trickery,  hut  n|)on  our 
own  hearts  and  hands.  And  in  the  matter  of  education, 
whereas  tliev -from  earlv  vouth  are  alwavs  under«>-oin*>- 
laborious  exercises  which  are  to  make  them  l)rave,  \ve 
live  at  ease,  and  yet  are  equally  ready  to  face  the  perils 
which  they  face.  And  here  is  the  proof.  The  Lace- 
dseraonians  come  into  Attica  not  by  themselves,  but 
with  their  whole  confederacy  following ;  we  go  alone  into 
a  neighbor's  country ;  and  although  our  opponents  are 
fighting  for  their  homes  and  we  on  a  foreign  soil,  we 
have  seldom  any  difficulty  in  overcoming  them.  Our 
enemies  have  never  yet  felt  our  united  strength  ;  the  care 
of  a  navy  divides  our  attention,  and  on  land  we  are 
obliged  to  send  our  own  citizens  everywhere.  But  they, 
if  they  meet  and  defeat  a  part  of  our  ariuy,  are  as  jiroud 
as  if  they  had  routed  us  all,  and  when  defeated  they 
pretend  to  have  been  vanquished  by  us  all. 

"  If,  then,  we  prefer  to  meet  danger  with  a  light  heart 
but  without  laborious  training,  and  with  a  courage  which 


THREE    PLANb    OF    GREAT    ADDRESSES,  22;> 

is  gained  by  habit  and  not  cnfoix'ed  by  law,  are  we  not 
greatly  the  gainers?  Since  we  do  not  antici[)ate  the 
pain,  although,  when  the  hour  eouies,  we  can  l)e  as  brave 
as  tliose  who  never  allow  themselves  to  rest;  and  thus 
too  our  city  is  eijually  admirable  in  peace  and  in  war. 
For  we  are  lovers  of  the  beiuitiful,  yet  sin)j)le  in  our 
tastes,  and  we  cultivate  the  mind  without  loss  of  manli- 
ness. Wealth  we  employ,  not  for  talk  and  ostentation, 
but  wh<'n  there  is  a  real  use  for  it.  To  avow  ])overty 
with  us  is  no  disgrace;  the  true  disgrace  is  in  doing 
nothiuir  to  avoid  it.  An  Athenian  citizen  does  not 
neglect  the  State  becausi;  he  takes  care  of  his  own  house- 
hold ;  and  even  those  of  us  who  are  engaged  in  business 
havu  a  very  fair  idea  of  politics.  We  alone  regard  a 
man  who  takes  uo  interest  in  public  affairs,  not  as  a 
harndess,  but  as  a  useless  character ;  and  if  few  of  us 
are  originators,  we  are  all  sound  judges  of  a  policy.  The 
great  impediment  to  action  is,  in  our  opinion,  not  dis- 
cussion, but  the  want  of  knowledge  which  is  gained  by 
diseiL>;sion  preparatory  to  action.  For  we  have  a 
peculiar  power  of  thinking  before  we  act  and  of  acting 
too,  whereas  other  men  ai-e  courageous  from  ignorance 
but  hesitate  upon  reflection.  And  they  are  surely  to  be 
esteemed  the  l)rtivest  spirits  who,  having  the  clearest 
sense  both  of  the  pains  and  plea.sures  of  life,  do  not  on 
that  account  shrink  from  danger.  Tn  doing  good,  again, 
we  are  unlike  others  ;  we  make  our  friends  })y  conferring, 
not  by  receiving  favors.  Xow  he  who  confers  a  favor  is 
the  firmer  friend,  because  he  would  fain  by  kindness 
keep  alive  the  memory  of  an  obligation  ;  but  the  recipient 
is  colder  in  his  feelings,  because  he  knows  that  in  requit- 


224  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

ing  another's  generu:?ity  he  will  not  be  winning  gratitude 
but  only  paying  a  debt,  ^^'e  alone  do  good  to  our 
neighbors  not  upon  a  ealoulation  of  interest,  but  in  the 
confidence  of  freedom  and  in  a  frank  and  fearless  spirit. 
To  sum  up :  I  say  that  Athens  is  the  school  of  Hellas, 
and  that  the  individual  Athenian  in  his  own  person 
seems  to  have  the  power  of  adapting  himself  to  the  most 
varied  forms  of  action  with  the  utmost  versatility  and 
grace.  This  is  no  passing  and  idle  word,  but  truth  and 
fact ;  and  the  assertion  is  verified  by  the  position  to 
which  these  qualities  have  raised  the  State.  For  in  the 
hour  of  trial  Athens  alone  among  her  contemporaries  is 
superior  to  the  report  of  her.  No  enemy  who  comes 
againgt  her  is  indignant  at  the  reverses  which  he  sustains 
at  the  hands  of  such  a  city  ;  no  subject  complains  that  his 
masters  are  unworthy  of  him.  And  we  shall  assuredly 
not  be  without  witnesses  ;  there  are  mi«;htv  monuments 
of  our  power  which  will  make  us  the  wonder  of  this  and 
of  succeeding  ages  ;  we  shall  not  need  the  praises  of 
Homer  or  of  any  other  panegyrist  Avhose  poetry  may  please 
for  the  moment,  although  his  representation  of  the  facts 
w  ill  not  bear  the  light  of  day.  For  we  have  compelled 
every  land  and  every  sea  to  open  a  path  for  our  valor,  and 
have  everywhere  planted  eternal  memorials  of  our  friend- 
ship and  of  our  enmity.  Such  is  the  city  for  whose  sake 
these  men  nobly  fought  and  died ;  they  could  not  bear  the 
thought  that  she  might  be  taken  from  them;  and  every 
one  of  us  Avho  survive  should  gladly  toil  on  her  behalf. 
''  I  have  dw'Clt  up(Hi  the  greatness  of  Athens  because 
I  want  to  show^  von  that  we  are  contending;  for  a  hioher 
prize  than  those  who  enjoy  none  of  these  privileges,  and 


T111!I:F,    I'J.ANS    OF    (JRFAT    ADDURSSES.  225 

to  estal)Ii>li  by  inanitest  proof  the  merit  of  the^e  men 
whom  I  aiu  now  cominemoi'atino:.  Their  loftiest  jivaise 
has  been  ab'eady  spoken.  For  in  mai>-nifying  the  eitv  I 
have  magnified  them,  and  men  Hke  tliem  whose  virtues 
made  her  glorious.  And  of  Ikmv  tew  Hellenes  ean  it  be 
said  as  of  them,  that  their  tleeds  when  weighed  in  the 
balanee  have  been  found  equal  to  their  fame  !  Methinks 
that  a  death  such  as  theirs  has  been  gives  the  true 
measure  of  a  man's  worth  ;  it  may  be  the  first  revelation 
of  his  virtues,  but  is  at  any  rate  their  final  seal.  For 
even  those  who  come  short  in  other  ways  may  justly 
|)lead  the  valor  with  which  they  have  fought  for  their 
country  ;  they  have  blotted  out  the  evil  with  the  good, 
and  have  benefited  the  State  more  by  their  ])ublie  ser- 
vices than  they  have  injured  her  bv  their  private  actions, 
Xone  of  these  men  wci-e  enei-vated  by  wealth  or  hesitated 
to  resign  the  ])leasures  of  life  ;  none  of  them  ))ut  off  the 
evil  day  in  the  hope,  natural  to  povert\',  that  a  man, 
though  j)oor,  may  one  day  become  rich.  Hut,  deeming 
that  the  punishment  of  their  enemies  was  sweeter  than 
anv  of  these  things,  and  that  tluy  could  fall  in  no  nobler 
cause,  they  determiiUKl  at  the  hazard  of  their  lives  to  be 
honorably  avengtMl,  and  t<i  l(>ave  the  rest.  They  resigned 
to  hope  their  unknown  chance  of  hap])iness;  but  in  the 
fiiceof  deatli  they  resolved  to  rely  upon  themselves  alone. 
And  when  the  moment  came  they  were  minded  to  resist 
and  suffer,  rather  than  to  fiy  and  save  their  lives;  they 
ran  away  from  the  word  of  dishonor,  but  on  the  battle- 
field their  feet  stood  fast,  and  in  an  instant,  at  the  height 
of  their  fortune,  they  passed  away  from  tlie  scene,  not  of 
•their  fcai",  but  of  their  glory. 


226  EXTE^rPORE    SrEEC^H. 

"■  Such  was  the  end  of  these  men  ;  they  were  worthy 
of  Athens,  and  the  living  need  not  desire  to  have  a  more 
heroic  spirit,  although  thev  may  pray  for  a  less  fatal 
issue.  The  value  of  such  a  spirit  is  not  to  be  expressed 
in  words.  Any  one  can  discourse  to  you  forever  about 
the  advantages  of  a  brave  defense  which  you  know 
already.  But  instead  of  listening  to  him  I  would  have 
you  day  by  day  fix  your  eyes  uj)on  the  greatness  of 
Athens,  until  you  become  filled  witli  the  love  of  her ; 
and  when  you  are  impressed  l)y  the  s})ectacle  of  her 
glory,  reflect  that  this  empire  has  been  acquired  by  men 
who  knew  their  duty  and  had  the  courage  to  do  it,  Avho 
in  the  hour  of  conflict  had  the  fear  of  dishonor  always 
present  to  them,  and  who,  if  ever  they  failed  in  an  enter- 
prise, would  not  allow  their  virtues  to  be  lost  to  their 
country,  but  freely  gave  their  lives  to  her  as  the  fairest 
offering  Avhich  they  coidd  present  at  her  feast.  The 
sacrifice  w-liich  they  collectively  made  was  individually 
repaid  to  them ;  for  they  received  again  each  one  for 
himself  a  praise  which  grows  not  old,  and  the  noblest  of 
all  sepulchres — I  speak  not  of  that  in  which  their 
remains  are  laid,  but  of  that  in  which  their  glory  sur- 
vives, and  is  jiroclaimed  alwavs  and  on  every  fitting 
occasion  both  in  word  and  deed.  For  the  whole  earth 
is  the  sepulchre  of  famous  men  ;  not  only  are  they  com- 
memorated by  columns  and  inscriptions  in  their  own 
country,  but  in  foreign  lands  there  dwells  also  an  un- 
written memorial  of  them,  graven  not  on  stone  but  in 
the  hearts  of  men.  Make  them  your  examples,  and, 
esteeming  courage  to  be  freedom  and  freedom  to  be  hap- 
piness, do  not  weigh  too  nicely  the  perils  of  war.     The 


THREE    PLANS    OF    GREAT    ADDRESSES.  227 

unfortunate  who  has  no  hope  of  a  change  for  the  better 
has  less  reason  to  throw  away  his  life  than  the  prosper- 
ous, who,  if  he  survive,  is  always  liable  to  a  change  for 
the  worse,  and  to  whom  any  accidental  fall  makes  the 
most  serious  diflcrence.  To  a  man  of  spirit,  cowardice 
and  disaster  coming  together  are  far  more  bitter  than 
death,  strikuig  him  unperceived  at  a  time  when  he  is 
full  of  courage  and  animated   by  the  general  hope. 

"  Wherefore,  I  do  not  now  conuniscrate  the  parents 
of  the  dead  who  stand  liere;  J  would  rather  comfort 
them.  You  know  that  your  life  has  been  passed  amid 
manifold  vicissitudes,  and  that  they  may  l)e  deemed  for- 
tunate who  have  gained  most  honor,  whether  an  lionor- 
able  death  like  theirs,  or  an  honorable  sorrow  like  yours, 
and  whose  days  have  been  so  ordered  that  the  term  of 
their  ha]ipiness  is  likewise  the  term  of  their  life.  I 
know  liow  hard  it  is  to  make  you  feel  this,  when  the 
good  fortune  of  others  will  too  often  remind  you  of  the 
gladness  which  once  lightened  your  hearts.  And  sorrow 
is  felt  at  the  want  of  those  blessings,  not  which  a  man 
never  kne\\',  but  which  were  a  part  of  his  life  before 
they  were  taken  from  him.  Some  of  you  are  of  an  age 
at  whicli  they  may  hope  to  have  other  children,  and 
they  ouglit  to  bear  their  sorrow  better  ;  not  only  will  the 
children  who  may  hereafter  be  l)orn  make  them  forget 
their  oavu  h)st  ones,  l)ut  the  city  will  be  doubly  a  gainer. 
She  will  not  be  left  desolate,  and  she  will  be  safer.  For 
a  man's  counsel  cann(»t  have  eciiial  weight  (»r  worth 
when  he  alone  has  no  children  to  risk  in  the  general 
danger.  To  those  of  you  who  have  passed  their  prime, 
•  I  say,    'Congratulate   yourselves  that   you  have  been 


228  EXTEMPOHK    SPEECir. 

happy  during  the  greater  part  of  your  days;  remember 
that  your  Hfe  of  sorrow  will  not  last  long,  and  be  com- 
forted by  the  glory  of  those  who  are  gone.  For  the 
love  of  honor  alone  is  ever  young,  and  not  riches,  as 
some  say,  but  honor  is  the  delight  of  men  A\'hen  they  are 
old  and  useless.' 

"  To  you  ^vho  are  the  sons  and  brothers  of  the  de- 
parted, I  see  that  the  struggle  to  enudate  them  will  be 
an  arduous  one.  For  all  men  praise  the  dead,  and  how- 
ever pre-eminent  your  virtue  may  be,  hardly  will  you 
be  thought,  I  do  not  say  to  equal,  but  even  to  approach 
them.  The  living  have  their  rivals  and  detractors,  but 
svhen  a  man  is  out  of  the  way,  the  honor  and  good-will 
which  he  receives  is  unalloyed.  And,  if  I  am  to  speak 
of  womanly  virtues  to  those  of  you  who  will  hencetbrth 
be  widows,  let  me  sum  them  up  in  one  short  admonition: 
To  a  woman  not  to  show  more  weakness  than  is  natural 
to  her  sex  is  a  great  glory,  and  not  to  be  talked  about 
for  good  or  for  evil  among  men. 

"  I  have  paid  the  recpiired  tribute,  in  obedience  to  the 
laAV,  making  use  of  such  fitting  words  as  I  had.  The 
tribute  of  deeds  has  been  paid  in  part ;  for  the  dead  have 
been  honorably  interred,  and  it  remains  only  that  their 
children  should  be  maintained  at  the  public  charge  until 
they  are  grown  up  :  this  is  the  solid  ])rize  with  which, 
as  with  a  garland,  Athens  crowns  her  sons,  living  and 
dead,  after  a  struggle  like  theirs.  For  Avhere  the 
rewards  of  virtue  are  greatest,  there  the  noblest  citizens 
are  enlisted  in  the  service  of  the  State.  And  now,  when 
you  have  duly  lamented,  every  one  his  own  dead,  you 
may  depart," 


THEEE    PT.AXS    OF    GI^EAT    ADDRESSES.  229 

We  next  procnt  tlir  ^keldi  of  a  serninii  liy  Rev.  C 
H.  Spurgeon,  and  part  of  the  scnuoii  itself.  This  is  the 
more  instruetive,  as  the  plan  was  prepared  substantially 
in  the  way  we  have  advised,  and  the  sermon  preached 
extemporaneously  from  it. 

"LOVE   AND   I"— A  MYSTERY. 
A    SERMON    HV    C.    H.    SPURGEON. 

[From  Homilelic  Munlhly,  Nov.,  ISS^."] 

Pulpit    Notes    used    by    S i' u r g e o n . 

Jolm  xvii,  20. 

Our  Lord  praijbui  v)ifh  If  is  disciples  at  the  last. 
This  the  r/ima.r  of  the  prayer. 
In  the  deep,  scratchinc/  the  (/round,  get  a  harvest. 
Here  the  final  word  is  love  and  anion,  with  "I." 
Lord,  vhat  a  sahjcct. 

I.  The  Food  of  Lovk. 

1.  Knowledge. 

2.  Knoivledge  given  by  Christ. 

S.  Knowledge  gradu(dlij  increasing. 

J^.  Knoivledge  distinguishing  us  from  the  world. 

5.  Knoivledge  of  the  name. 

BigliteoHs  F(dher. 

Holiness,  goodness,  inerctj,  love. 

II.  The  Love  Itself. 

1.  It  is  not  love  toivard  us  hut  in  us. 

S.  It  is  not  love  from  the  wells  of  the  creature. 

3.  It  is  a  recognition  of  Father  s  love  to  the  Son. 

It  is  a  sense  of  the  Father's  love  to  us. 

It  is  a  reflection  upon  Jesus  of  the  Father's  love 

It  is  a  beaming  forth  of  love  all  around. 


^230  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

4.  It  has  the  most  blessed  results. 
Expulsive,  repulsive,  impulsive. 
Renders  supremely  happy,  brave,  patient,  elevated. 

ITT.  The  Compaxiox  of  Lovk. 
Love  and  I. 
Jesus  sure  to  be  where  there  is  lore,  faith,  the  Spirit,  God. 

Christ  ever  near. 

Believer  ever  safe. 

Believer  should  render  good  entei'tainment. 

It  will  1)0  noticed  that  the  j)rcaclier'.s  subject  is  Clirist 
and  1()\(' dwelling-  in  lli;'  hnnian  heart;  the  object  is  to 
indnee  those  who  liuve  this  love  to  appreciate  it  more 
hio-hly,  and  all  others  to  seek  it.  Wv  oivo  only  the  in- 
trodnction  and  the  third  division  (which  is  also  the  con - 
clnsion),  to<iether  with  a  part  of  the  first  division,  as  the 
whole  disconrse  is  too  long  to  he  qnoted  here.  It  may 
he  added  that  these  notes  and  the  development  of  these 
])arts  are  fair  specimens  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
great  London  preachei'  p'-'>pai'es  and  delivers  his  dis- 
co nrses. 

Text. — I  liave  declarer]  unto  them  Thy  name,  and  vull 
declare  it;  tliat  the  lore  irherewith  Thou  has  loved  me 
may  be  in  them,  and  I  In  them. — John  xvii,  2G. 

''  For  several  Sal)l)ath  nioi'nings  mv  mind  has  heen 
directed  into  snbjects  which  1  might  fitly  call  the  deep 
things  of  God.  I  think  I  have  nev(4"  felt  my  own  in- 
competence more  fully  than  in  trying  t(j  handle  such 
subjects.  It  is  a  soil  into  which  one  may  dig  and  dig  as 
deep  as  ever  you  will,  and  still  never  exhaust  the  golden 


THKEE  PLANS  OF  GKEAT  ADDRESSES.     2ol 

nuggets  which  lie  within  it.  I  am,  however,  comforted 
by  this  fad,  tliat  tliese  subjects  are  so  fruitful  tliat  even 
we  who  can  only  scratch  the  surface  of  them  shall  yet 
get  a  harvest  from  them.  I  read  once  of  the  plains  of 
India  that  they  were  so  fertile  that  you  had  only  to 
tickle  them  with  the?  hoe  and  they  latighed  with  plenty  ; 
and  surely  such  a  text  as  this  may  be  described  as 
ccjually  fruitful,  even  under  our  feeble  husban(h-y. 
Pearls  lie  on  the  surface  here  as  well  as  in  the  depth, 
^^'e  have  oidy  to  search  its  surfiice,  and  stir  the  soil'  a 
little,  and  we  shall  be  astonished  at  the  plentitude  of 
spiritual  wealth  which  lies  before  us.  Oh  !  that  the  Spirit 
of  God  may  help  us  to  enjoy  the  blessed  truths  which 
are  herein  set  forth  !  Here  is  the  priceless  treasure,  but 
it  lies  hid  till  lie  reveals  it  to  us. 

"  You  see,  this  text  is  taken  out  of  our  Lord's  last 
prayer  with  His  disciples.  He  did  as  good  as  say,  '  I 
am  about  to  leave  you  ;  I  am  about  to  die  for  you  ;  and 
for  a  while  you  will  not  see  me;  but  now,  before  we 
separate,  let  us  pray,'  It  is  one  of  those  impulses  that 
y(ju  have  iMt  yourselves.  AVhcu  you  have  been  about 
to  part  from  those  you  love,  to  leave  them,  perhaps,  in 
danger  and  diHiculty,  you  have  felt  you  could  do  no  less 
than  say,  '  Let  us  (b'aw  nigh  i.nto  God.'  Your  heart 
found  no  way  of  expressing  itself  at  all  so  fitting,  so 
congenial,  so  satisfactory,  as  to  draw  near  unto  the  great 
Father  and  spread  the  case  before  Him.  Now  a  prayer 
from  such  a  one  as  Jesus,  our  Lord  and  Master — a 
prayer  in  such  a  company,  with  the  eleven  whom  He 
had  chosen,  and  who  had  consorted  with  Him  from  the 
'beginning,  a  prayer  under  such  circumstances,  when  He 


232  KXTK^ri'oni-:   spki'/ii. 

Av;is  just  oil  the  Itriiik  of  tlic  hriKtk  (»!"  ( 'cdroii,  and  was 
about  to  cross  that  liloonjy  stream  and  u'o  up  to  Calvurv, 
and  tliere  lay  down  His  lilt' — such  a  ])rayci-  as  tliis ;  so 
living-,  earnest,  loving,  and  divine,  deserves  the  most 
studious  meditations  of  all  believers.  I  invite  you  to 
l)ring  hither  your  best  thoughts  and  skill  for  the  navi- 
gation of  this  sea.  It  is  not  a  creek  or  bay,  but  the 
main  ocean  itself.  We  cannot  ho])eto  fathom  its  depths. 
This  is  true  of  any  sentence  of  this  matchless  ])raver, 
but  f  )r  me  the  work  of  exposition  becomes  unusually 
heavy,  because  my  text  is  the  dose  and  climax  of  this 
marvelous  supplication,  it  is  the  central  mystery  of  all. 
In  the  lowest  (k'])th  there  is  still  a  lower  deej),  and  this 
verse  is  one  of  those  dee])s  which  still  exceed  the  rest. 
Oh  I  how  much  we  want  the  Sjiirit  of  God!  Prav  for 
JTis  bedewing;  pray  that  His  l);dmy  influences  mav  de- 
scend upon  us  richly  now. 

"You  will  observe  that  the  last  word  of  our  Lord's 
prayer  is  concerning  love.  This  is  the  last  petition  which 
He  oilers,  '  That  the  love  whercAvith  Thou  hast  loved 
me  may  be  in  them,  and  I  in  them.'  He  reaches  no 
greater  lieight  tliau  this,  namely,  that  His  people  be  filled 
>vith  the  Father's  love.  How  could  He  rise  higher? 
]'\)r  this  is  to  be  filletl  with  all  the  fullness  of  God,  since 
(jod  is  love,  and  he  that  loveth  dwelleth  in  God  and 
God  in  him.  M'hat  importance  ought  you  and  I  attach 
to  the  grace  of  love !  How  highly  we  should  esteem 
tliat  which  Jesus  makes  the  crown  jewel  of  all.  If  Ave 
have  faith,  let  us  not  be  satisfial  unless  our  faith  Avorke^th 
by  love  and  ])urifieth  the  soul.  I^et  us  not  l>e  content, 
indeed,  ujuil  the  love  of  Ghrist   is  she<l  abroad  in  our 


THRKE    PLANS    OF    GREAT    ADDRESSES.  23-'') 

hearts  by  the  Holy  (ilio.-l  which  i.s  given  unto  us.  Well 
did  tlie  poet  say, 

'  Only  love  to  us  be  given  ; 
Lord,  we  ask  no  other  Heaven;' 

for  indeed  there  is  no  other  Heaven  below,  and  scarcely 
is  there  any  other  Heaven  above  than  to  reach  to  the 
fullness  of  perfect  love.  This  is  where  the  prayer  of  the 
Son  of  David  ends,  in  praying  *  that  the  love  wherewith 
Thou  hast  lovetl  nie  may  be  in  them.'  What  a  subject! 
The  highest  that  even  our  Lord  Jesus  reached  in  His 
nol)lest  prayer.  Again  with  groanings  my  heart  cries, 
Holy  Spirit,  help ! 

''  I.  First,  THE  FOOD  OF  r/JVE  TO  God  :  What  is  it? 
It  is  knoicledge.  '  I  have  made  known  unto  them  Thy 
name,  and  will  make  it  known.'  We  cannot  love  a  God 
Avhom  we  do  not  know  ;  a  measure  of  knowledge  is 
needful  to  affection.  However  lovely  God  may  be,  a 
man  blind  of  soul  cannot  perceive  Him,  and  therefore 
is  not  touched  by  His  loveliness.  Oidy  when  the  eyes 
are  oj)ened  to  belioid  the  loveliness  ofGod  will  the  heart 
go  out  toward  (Jud,  who  is  so  desirable  an  object  for  the 
aHeetions.  r>rethren,  we  nnist  know  in  order  to  believe; 
we  must  know  in  order  to  hope;  and  we  nmst  especially 
know  in  order  to  love.  Hence  the  gi-eat  desirableness 
that  you  should  know  tho  F.ord  and  His  great  love  wliieli 
passeth  knowledge.  Vou  eaimot  reciprocate  love  which 
you  have  never  known,  even  as  a  man  caimot  derive 
strength  from  food  which  he  has  not  eaten.  Till  first 
of  all  the  love  of  God  has  come  into  your  heart,  and 
you  have  been  made  a  partaker  of  it,  you  cannot  rejoice 


234  EXTEMPOI^E    SPEECH. 

in  it  or  return  it.  Therefore  our  Lord  took  care  to  feed 
His  disciples'  hearts  upon  the  Father's  name.  He 
labored  to  make  the  Father  known  to  them.  This  is 
one  of  His  great  efforts  with  them,  and  He  is  grieved 
when  He  sees  their  ignorance  and  has  to  say  to  one  of 
them,  '  Have  I  been  so  long  time  with  you,  and  yet 
hast  thou  not  known  me,  Philip  ?  He  that  hath  seen 
me  hath  seen  the  Father  ;  and  how  sayest  thou  then, 
Show  us  the  Father?'  Study  much,  then,  the  word  of 
God :  be  diligent  in  turning  the  pages  of  Scripture  and 
in  hearing  God's  true  ministers,  that  the  flame  of  love 
within  your  hearts  may  be  revived  by  the  fuel  of  holy 
knowledge  which  you  ])lace  uj)on  it.  Pile  on  the  logs 
of  sandal  wood,  and  let  the  perfumed  fires  burn  before 
the  Lord.  Heap  on  the  luuulfuls  of  frankincense  and 
sweet  odors  of  sacred  knowledge,  that  on  the  altar  of 
your  heart  there  may  always  be  burning  the  sacred  flame 
of  love  to  God  in  Christ  Jesus. 

"  The  knowledge  here  spoken  of  is  a  knowledge icli'ich 
Jemis  gave  tJiem.  '  I  have  known  Thee,  and  these  have 
kno^\•n  that  Thou  hast  sent  me.  And  I  have  declared 
untt)  them  Thy  name,  and  will  declare  it.'  ()  beloval ! 
it  is  not  knowledge  that  you  and  I  pick  up  as  a  matter 
of  book-learning  that  will  ever  bring  out  our  love  to  the 
Father :  it  is  knowledge  given  us  by  Christ  through 
His  Spirit.  It  is  not  knowledge  communicated  by  the 
preacher  alone  which  Avill  bless  you  ;  for,  however  nuich 
he  may  be  taught  of  God  himself,  he  cannot  preach  to 
the  heart  unless  the  blessed  Spirit  of  God  comes  and 
takes  of  the  things  that  are  spoken,  and  reveals  them 
and  makes  them  manifest  to  each  individual  heart,  so 


THREE    PEANS    OF    GREAT    ADDREi^SES.  235 

that  in  oonsequeiicf;  it  ku(»\v.-  the  Lord.  Jesus  said,  'O 
righteous  Father!  the  world  hath  not  known  Thee!' and 
you  and  I  M'ould  have  been  in  the  same  condition, 
strangers  to  God,  without  God  and  without  lioj)e  in  tlie 
world,  if  the  Spirit  of  God  had  not  taken  of  divine 
things  and  applied  them  to  oar  souls  so  that  we  are  made 
to  know  them.  Every  living  Avord  of  knowledge  is  the 
work  of  the  living  God.  If  you  only  know  what  vou 
have  found  out  for  yourself,  or  picked  uj)  by  your  own 
industi'v  apart  from  Jesus,  you  know  nothing  aright :  it 
must  be  by  the  direct  and  distinct  teaching  of  God  the 
Holy  Ghost  that  you  must  learn  to  profit.  Jesus  Christ 
alone  can  reveal  the  Father.  He  Himself  said  :  '  Xo 
man  comoth  unto  the  heather  but  bv  me.'  He  that 
kn(»ws  not  Ghrist  knows  not  the  Father,  but  when  Jesus 
Christ  reveals  Him,  ah  I  then  w(>  do  know  Him  after  a 
special,  personal,  j>ecidiar,  inward  knowledge.  This 
knowledge  brings  with  it  a  life  and  a  love  ^\•ith  w  hich 
the  soul  is  not  puffed  up,  but  built  uj).  \W  such  know  I- 
e  Igc  we  gi'ow  up  into  Him  in  all  things  w  ho  i-<  our  head, 
bc'ing  taught  of  the  Son  of  God. 

''This  knowledge,  dear  friends,  comes  fo  n.s  f/radud/li/. 
The  text  indicates  this:  'I  haxc  declared  imto  them 
Thv  name,  and  will  declare  it.'  As  if,  thoULih  th(y 
knew  the  Father,  there  was  far  more  to  know  and  tin' 
L  )rd  Jesus  was  resolved  to  teach  them  more.  Arc  yini 
gr.)wing  in  knowledge,  mv  bntthcrs  and  sistt  I's?  .My 
lab>)r  is  lost  if  you  are  not  growing  in  grace  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Savi(»ur  Jesus  Christ.  I 
hope  vou  know  much  more  of  God  than  y(»u  did  twenty 
vears  ao:o  when   first  vou  came  to  Him.     That   little 


2o(>  KXTEJrPORE    SPEEf'II. 

kiiowlodjie  \\liifli  vt»u  rLreived  hv  irraof  \yhon  von  roiiml 
'  life  in  a  look  at  the  Crucified  One'  has  saved  you  ;  Ixit 
in  these  after  years  you  have  axkled  to  your  faith  knowl- 
edge,  and  to  your  knowledge  experience;  you  have  gone 
on  to  know  more  deeply  what  you  knew  before,  and  to 
know  the  details  of  what  you  seemed  to  know  in  the 
gross  and  the  lump  at  first.  You  have  come  to  l(»ok 
into  things  as  well  as  upon  things — a  look  at  Chri>t 
saves,  but  oh  !  it  is  the  look  into  Christ  that  wins  the 
heart's  love  and  holds  it  fast  and  binds  us  to  Him  as 
with  fetters  of  y-old.  We  oug-ht  everv  dav  to  be  adding 
something  to  this  inestimably  precious  store,  that  as  we 
are  known  of  God  so  we  may  know  God,  and  l)ecome 
thereby  transformed  from  glory  unto  glory  through  His 
Spirit, 

"  Are  you  not  thankful  for  this  blessed  word  of  the 
Lord  Jesus:  'I  will  declare  it,'  '  I  will  make  it  known '? 
Pie  did  do  so  at  His  resurrection,  when  He  taught  His 
people  things  they  knew  not  l)efore  ;  but  He  did  so  mucli 
more  after  He  had  ascended  up  on  high  when  the  Spii'it 
of  God  was  given.  '  He  shall  teach  you  all  things,  and 
bring  all  things  to  your  remembrance,  whatsoever  1  have 
said  unto  you.'  And  now  to-day  in  the  hearts  of  His 
people  He  is  daily  teacJiing  us  something  that  we  do  not 
know.  All  our  experience  tends  that  way.  When 
the  Spirit  of  God  blesses  an  afHietion  to  us,  it  is 
one  of  the  Saviour's  illuminated  books  out  of  which 
we  learn  something  more  of  the  Father's  name, 
and  consequently  come  to  love  Him  better:  for  that  is 
the  thing  Christ  aims  at.  He  would  so  make  known 
the  Father,  that  the  love  wherewith   the   Father  had 


THRRR    IM.ANS    OF    (JREAT    ADDRESSES.  237 

loved  Him  may  be  in  u.s,  and  that  He  Himself  may  be 
in  us. 

"  This  hioidedrje  distinguishes  us  from  the  icorld.  It 
is  the  mark  by  which  the  elect  are  made  manifest.  In 
the  sixth  verse  of  this  chapter  our  Lord  says :  '  1  have 
manifested  Thy  name  unto  tlie  men  which  Thou  gavest 
me  out  of  the  world.  Tliine  they  were,  and  Thou 
gavest  them  me  ;  and  they  have  kept  Thy  wonk'  The 
world  does  not  know  the  Father,  and  cannot  know  Him, 
for  it  abides  in  the  darkness  and  death  of  sin.  Judge 
yourselves,  therefore,  by  tliis  sure  test,  and  let  tl)e  love 
which  grows  out  of  gracious  knowledge  be  a  token  lltr 

good  unto  you. 

****** 

"III.  Thirdly,  here  is  the  companion  of  love. 
'  I  in  them.'  Look  at  the  text  a  minute  and  just  catch 
those  two  words.  Here  is  '  love '  and  '  I ' — love  and 
Christ  come  together.  O  bk\<sed  guests !  '  Love  and 
I,'  savs  Christ ;  as  if  He  felt  He  never  had  a  companion 
that  suited  Him  better.  '  Love '  and  '  T  :'  Jesus  is  ever 
at  home  wliere  love  is  reigning.  When  love  lives  in 
His  people's  iiearts,  Jesus  lives  there  too.  Does  Jesus, 
then,  live  in  the  hearts  of  His  peo])le?  Yes,  wherever 
there  is  the  love  of  the  Father  slicd  abroad  in  them 
He  must  be  there.  We  have  His  own  word  tor  it,  and 
we  are  sure  that  Jesus  knows  where  He  is. 

"We  are  sure  that  He  is  where  love  is;  for,  hrst, 
\rhere  there  is  love  there  is ///V,  and  where  there  is  life 
there  is  Christ,  for  He  Himself  says,  'I  am  the  life.' 
There  is  no  true  life  in  the  believer's  soul  that  is  divided 
from  Christ.     We  are  sui-e  of  that  ;  so  that  wliere  tiu're 


238  EXTEMruRE    SPEECH. 

is  love  there  is  life,  aud  where  there  is  life  there  is 
Christ.  Again,  where  there  is  the  love  of  God  in  the 
heart  there  is  the  Holy  Spirit ;  hnt  wherever  the  Holy 
Spirit  is,  there  is  Christ,  for  the  Holy  Spirit  is  Christ's 
representative ;  aud  it  is  in  that  sense  that  He  tells  us, 
'  Lo,  I  am  with  you  alway,'  namely,  because  the  Spirit 
is  come  to  be  always  with  us.  So  where  there  is  love, 
there  is  the  Spirit  of  G<xl ;  and  where  there  is  the  Spirit 
of  irod,  there  is  Christ.     So  it  is  always,  '  Love  aud  I.' 

'*  Furthermore,  where  there  is  love  there  is  faith,  for 
faith  worketh  by  love,  and  there  never  was  true  love  to 
Christ  apart  from  faith ;  but  where  there  is  faith  there 
is  always  Christ,  for  if  there  is  faith  in  Him  He  has 
been  received  into  the  soul.  Jesus  is  ever  near  to  that 
faith  which  has  Himself  for  its  foundation  and  resting 
place.  AA'here  there  is  love  there  is  faith,  where  there 
is  fliith  there  is  Christ,  and  so  it  is  '  Love  and  I.' 

"  Ay,  but  where  there  is  the  Father's  love  toAvard 
Christ  in  the  heart  God  Himself  is  there.  I  am  sure  of 
that,  for  God  is  love.  So  if  there  is  love  within  us  there 
must  be  God.  and  where  God  is  there  Christ  is,  for  He 
saith,  '  I  and  my  Father  are  one.'  So  you  see  where 
there  is  love  there  must  be  Jesus  Christ,  for  these  rea- 
sons and  for  many  others  besides. 

"  '  I  in  them.'  Yes,  if  I  were  commanded  to  preach 
for  seven  years  from  these  three  words  only,  I  should 
never  exhaust  the  text,  I  am  quite  certain.  I  might 
exhaust  you  by  my  dullness,  and  exhaust  myself  by 
labor  to  tell  out  the  sacred  secret,  l>ut  I  should  never 
exhaust  the  text.  '  I  in  them.'  It  is  the  most  blessed 
word  I  know  of.     You,  beloved,  need  not  go  abroad  to 


THREE    PLA^S    OF    GREAT    ADDRESSES.  239 

find  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  AMiere  does  He  live  ?  He 
lives  within  you.  *  I  in  them.'  As  soon  as  ever  you 
pray  you  are  sure  He  hears  you,  l^ecause  He  is  within  vou. 
He  is  not  knocking  at  your  door ;  He  has  entered  into  you, 
and  there  He  dwells,  and  will  go  no  more  out  forever. 

"■  What  a  blessed  sease  of  power  this  gives  to  us.  '  I 
in  them.'  Then  it  is  no  more  *  I '  in  weakness,  but, 
since  Jesus  dwells  in  me,  '  I  can  d(»  all  things  through 
( 'hrist  that  strengthened  me.  '1  in  them.'  It  is  the 
glory  of  the  believer  that  Christ  dwells  in  him.  'Unto 
you  that  l>elieve  He  is  precious.' 

"  Hence  we  gather  the  security  of'  the  believer. 
Brother,  if  Christ  l)e  in  me,  and  I  am  overcome,  Christ 
is  conquered  too,  for  He  is  in  me.  '  I  in  them.'  I  can- 
not comprehend  the  dtK'trine  of  l^elievers  falling  from 
grace.  If  Christ  has  once  enterwl  into  them,  will  He 
not  abide  with  them  ?  Paul  saith, '  I  am  persuaded  that 
neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels,  nor  principalities,  nor 
powers,  nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
height,  nor  dejjth,  nor  any  other  creature,  shall  l:>e  able 
to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord.'  To  that  persuasion  I  set  my  hand  and 
seal.  Well,  then,  if  Christ  is  in  us,  whatever  happens 
to  us  will  happen  to  Him.  We  shall  l)e  losers  if  we  do 
not  get  to  Heaven ;  but  so  will  He  be,  fjr  He  is  in  us, 
and  so  is  a  partaker  of  our  condition.  If  it  is  an  indis- 
soluble union — and  so  He  declares  it  i.-^ — '  I  in  tliem,' 
then  His  destiny  and  ours  are  linked  together;  and  if 
He  wins  the  victory  we  conquer  in  Him  :  If  He  sits  at 
the  right  hand  of  God  we  shall  sit  at  the  right  hand  of 
God  with  Him,  for  He  is  in  us. 


210  EXTKMiMUjr:   spefxti. 

"I  know  iit)t  wliiil  imnv  t(»  s;iy,  not  lu'caiisi'  I  have 
notliinti:  more,  l)iit  hccaiisc  I  do  not  know  wliicli  to  hrinj^ 
forward  out  ol"  a  tlionsaiid  precious  things;  but  I  leave 
the  suhjeet  with  you.  (io  home  and  live  in  the  power 
of  this  blessed  text.  Go  home  and  be  as  ha])])y  as  you 
can  be  to  live,  and  it'  you  get  a  little  ha|)i)ier  that  will 
not  hurt  you,  for  then  you  will  l)e  in  Heaven.  Kcn-p 
up  nnbnjken  j(ty  in  the  Lord.  It  is  not  *  I  in  them '  for 
Sundays,  and  away  on  Mondays  ;  '  I  in  them  '  when 
they  sit  in  the  Tabernacle,  and  out  of  them  when  they 
reach  home.  No,  *  I  in  them  '  and  that  forever  and  for- 
ever. Go  and  rejoice.  Show  this  blind  world  that  you 
have  a  hapj)iness  which  as  much  outshines  theirs  as  the 
Sim  outshines  the  sparks  which  Hy  from  the  chimney 
and  expire.  Go  forth  with  joy  and  be  led  forth  with 
peaee;  let  the  mountains  and  the  hills  break  forth  before 
you  into  singing : 

'All  tlial  remains  for  me 

Is  but  to  love  and  sing, 
And  wait  until  tiie  angels  come, 

To  bear  me  to  tlie  King.' 

"  '  Oh  !  but  I  have  my  troubles.'  I  know  you  have 
■vour  troubles,  l)ut  they  are  not  worthy  to  be  compared 
with  the  glory  that  shall  be  revealed  in  you,  nor  even 
with  your  present  glory.  I  feel  as  if  I  could  not  think 
about  troubles,  nor  sins,  nor  anything  else  when  I  once 
behold  the  love  of  God  to  me.  ^^llen  1  feel  my  love 
to  Christ,  which  is  but  God's  love  to  Christ,  burning 
within  my  soul,  then  I  gl<»ry  in  tribulation,  for  the 
power  of  God  shall  be  through  these  ufflietions  made 


THREE    IT.AXS    (iF    fJREAT    A  DOnESSHs.  211 

maiiifet  in  me.     '1  in  tlii'in.'     (iod  bless  you  willi   \\ni 
knowledge  of  tlii>  inysterv,  for  Jesus'  sake.     A  men." 

Our  third  example  is  the  outline  of  that  urand  inau- 
gural discourse  of  the  Christian  religifHi  found  in  the 
oth,  ()th,  and  7th  chapters  of  St.  Mattiiew.  The  Ser- 
iniin  on  the  Mount  is  t<»o  familiar  to  need  i-eprcMJuclion 
here,  but  the  outline  will  show  how  re<rular  it  is  in 
structure,  and  how  closely  it  conforms  to  the  laws  which 
govern  discourses. 

The  subject  is  the  <li.-tin(tion  between  the  Spiritual 
Kingdom  Christ  then  set  up.  and  the  Jewish  State,  of 
which  His  hearers  were  still  mend)ers. 

The  object  is  to  induce  His  hearers  to  enter  inuuedi- 
atcly  into  this  new  and  better  Kingdom, 

Plan  of  ti[e  Sermon  on  the  Moi'nt. 

Introduction. — 1.  Who  the   bh-ssed   (happy) 
ones  really  are  ;  v,  2-12. 

2.  The  position  of  the  bl es>ed  ;  v,  lo-K). 

3.  The  Old  Kingdom  not  to  be  destroyeil  by  the 
New;  V,  17-20. 

I.     Contrasts    Between    the   Oed    and   New 
Kingdoms  Concerning  Things  Forbidden. 

1.  The  law  again-t  Killing  ;  v,  21-26. 

2.  "       "         "        Adultery;  v,  27-32. 


242  KXTHMPOKK  Sl'KKCH. 

3.  The  law  against  Profanity  ;  v,  3.3-.'37. 

4.  "      "         "       Injuries;  v,  38-48. 

II.  Contrasts  Coxcernincj  Pkacticai.  Dities. 

1.  Almsgivinir  •  yj^  2-4. 

2.  Prayer;  vi,  5-15.  [Example — tlie  Lord's 
Prayer.] 

3.  Fasting;  vi,  lG-18. 

4.  Treasure-gathering;  vi,  19-34. 

III.  How    Subjects    of    the    New    Kingdom 

SHOULD  REOARD  OTHEIJ   PERSONS. 

1.  AVitli  charity  in  word   and  action;   vii,  1-12. 

2.  But  with  caution  ;  influence  of  numbers  and 
of  false  teachers  de])recated  ;  vii,  13-2.'). 

Conclusion. — The  whole  sulVject  illustrated  hv 
the  evil  consequences  of  building  a  house  upon 
a  foundation  of  sand,  and  the  good  conse- 
quences of  building  it  upou  a  rock. 


CHAPTER  X. 
Illustrations,  Pathos,  Httmor. 

All  popular  and  ctfi't-tive  (liscour.sos  nuit?t  })()sses.s  at 
least  one  of  the  above  (pialitien.  In  ordinary  speeehes 
they  do  not  pre.sent  themselves  spontaneously,  but  must 
be  sought  out  with  diligenee  and  perseverance.  Some 
speakers  find  it  easy  to  sparkle  with  illustrations  and  to 
indidge  in  humor  and  pathos,  but  others  ean  only  suc- 
ceed in  that  direction  with  [)ainful  toil.  A\'e  wish  now 
to  consider  a  few  of"  the  methods  by  which  they  can 
be  secured  when  they  do  not  present  themselves  spon- 
taneously. 

The  ucchI  of"  abundant  illustrations  has  l)ccn  felt  in 
all  kinds  of  address  and  many  eflbrts  have  been  made 
to  su})ply  them.  A  number  of  books  have  been  })ub- 
lished  in  which  illustrations  have  been  gathertxl  from  a 
wide  range  of  literature,  and  catalogued  for  use.  The 
.speaker  may  employ  these  cautiously  with  great  profit; 
and  no  longing  for  an  originality,  which,  after  all,  can 
never  be  absolute,  should  deter  him.  The  labor  of 
searching  for  one  or  two  illustrations  of"  an  important 
thought  may  be  greater  than  that  devoted  to  the  prepa- 
j-ation  of  the  whole  sjK'ceh,  but  it  is  laltor  \-ery  ])rofitably 
employed.     While  thinking  what  any  particular  thing 

243    ' 


244  EXTF.Mroi;!-:   sfKEcir. 

is  like,  our  cunceptiun  ol'  the  tliinii;  itsell"  and  of  all 
the  ideas  that  duster  around  it,  will  be<-onie  nuieh  more 
vivid.  Even  the  illustrations  we  reject  may  have  «i^reat 
value  in  sharpening-  our  conceptions  of"  the  dillerence 
between  the  thing  investigated  and  all  other  things  ol'  a 
similar  character. 

But  it  is  not  enough  to  search  for  similes  and  (ignns 
among  ready-made  selections.  All  we  know,  hear,  and 
read,  may  be  passed  in  mental  review  tor  the  purpose  of 
seeing  what  trutli  it  will  vividly  set  forth.  If  we 
assume  that  our  speeches  mud  be  illustrated,  and  sju-nd 
nuich  time  in  seeidng  for  good  illustrations,  changing 
those  we  have  used  for  better  ones  whenever  possil)le, 
we  will  come  to  "thiid<  double,"  that  is,  to  see  the  like- 
ness that  exist  in  all  objects  to  something  else.  The 
habit  of  doing  this  grows  with  practice.  If  we  ])ass 
our  addresses  in  review  asking  ourselves,  "  What  })oints 
did  we  fail  to  make  strong  and  intelligible  for  want  of 
good  illustrations  ?"  Ave  will  be  able  both  to  see  our  de- 
fects in  this  line  and  the  means  of  remedying  them. 
There  should  be  a  very  careful  record  of  these  treasures 
made,  for  with  the  majority  of  speakers  nothing  else  is 
so  precious. 

Scraps  from  newspapers,  sentences  copied  into  connnon- 
place  books,  all  kinds  of  memoranda  which  direct  atten- 
tion to  a  happy  figure  heard  in  conversation,  encountered 
in  reading,  or  thought  of,  will  be  exceedingly  valuable. 


ILLrRTPvATIOXS,    PATIIOR,    HT'.^roI^.  24') 

It  is  possible  to  luivc  loo  inaiiv  illustrations,  but  for 
one  speaker  who  labors  under  this  disadvantage  nine 
have  not  enough.  A  bad  illustration — one  which  is 
cloudy,  tame,  in  bad  taste,  or  wliich  does  not  illuminate 
or  enforce  some  part  of  our  subject — is  worse  than  none 
at  all.  It  should  be  thrown  out  and  its  place  suj)plied 
Avith  something  better. 

The  power  to  touch  the  heart,  and  as  an  evidence  ol" 
deep  feeling  to  cause  tears  to  flow,  is  greatly  sought  by 
orators,  and,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  highly  enjoyed 
bv  audiences.  There  is  a  luxury  in  aroused  feeling,  and 
multitudes  will  throng  to  the  church  or  hall  where  they 
are  made  to  weep.  If  the  effort  for  such  effects  is  car- 
ried too  far,  it  will  become  unmanly  and  maudlin  ;  but 
in  proper  bounds  it  is  a  geiuiine  oratorical  resource. 
How  shall  a  reasonable  degree  of  pathos  be  brought  into 
oui"  discourses? 

Incidents  which  involve  great  or  hei-oic  sullering  and 
self-sacrifices,  if  well  told,  with  a  ilirect  bearing  upon 
the  o-eneral  theme,  seldom  fail  tit  make  a  deep  impres- 
sion. Thev  are  often  invented  by  tlie  sjteaker,  biU  while 
that  device  may  not  always  be  worthy  of  condenmation, 
its  expediency  is  questionable,  locality  has  fai-  more 
power  than  fiction.  There  is  so  nuich  of  sutteriug  and 
sorrow  in  the  world,  and  so  much  of  heroic  struggle 
against  it,  that  if  our  addresses  itiirly  reflect  this  'Svorld- 
tragedy"  the  highest   pathos  will   be  realized.     Keen, 


246  EXTEMPOKE    SPEEfH. 

qiiit'k  observation  ;ui<l  a  really  .-yni pathetic  nature  (tn 
the  part  of  the  speaker  will  sliow  him  where  to  find  the 
materials  to  move  the  hearts  of"  his  hearers.  But  while 
usinsf  such  materials  he  must  retain  command  of  his 
own  feelings.  To  be  truly  successful  in  the  use  of 
pathos  he  must  give  a  reasonable  foinidatiou  for  the  emo- 
tion he  wishes  to  evoke,  and  then  be  able  to  turn  the 
aroused  feelino;  into  some  chanuei  which  will  iustifv  the 
])ain  causetl. 

Humor  is  intimately  associatcnl  with  pathos  by  the 
law  of  opposites.  One  is  almost  the  direct  reaction  from 
the  other,  and  after  one  has  been  evoked  the  other 
follows  more  easily  than  it  would  at  another  time.  The 
spirit  of  humor  is  valuable  in  all  forms  of  address,  but 
in  some — notably  in  the  jjolitical  arena  and  on  the  plat- 
form— it  is  invaluable.  Its  range  is  vast.  It  may  be  so 
rude  and  uncouth  as  to  lessen  the  dignity  of  discourse, 
or  it  may  be  of  the  most  refined  character.  While  it 
cannot  be  relied  upon  as  an  argument,  yet  if  a  good 
argument  is  employed  and  then  clenched  by  a  humorous 
story  or  allusion  of  perfect  a]i]iro])riateness,  nuicli  is 
gained.  To  make  an  audience  laugh  at  the  positions  of 
an  opponent,  at  least  prepares  the  way  for  refuting  him. 

This  quality  may  be  cultivated  by  seeking  out  and 
enjoying  the  humorous  element  which  is  found  in  every- 
thing. AVe  ouo^ht  to  be  able  to  lau<»;h  at  all  that  is 
ludicrous,  without  in  the  least    losing  our  respect  and 


ILLUSTr.ATIOXS,    PATHOS,    HUMOE  247 

veneration  for  wliat  is  ^oorl.  Everything  coarse  and 
evil  shonld  be  rejected  tVoiii  our  minds  instantly,  hov.- 
ever  humorous;  hut  all  the  really  funny  things,  which 
can  by  any  possibility  be  pressed  into  the  service  of 
speech,  should  be  carefully  noted  and  remembered. 
Abraham  Lincoln  owed  no  small  [)art  of  his  popular 
power  to  his  marvelous  fund  of  luunorous  illustrati(tns. 
More  than  one  noted  pr(>acher  has  given  a  keener  edge 
to  truth  by  the  same  means. 

Extemporaneous  s])eeeh  furnishes  nnich  better  oppor- 
tunity than  written  f)r  the  ac(|uircment  ol"  all  these 
elements  of  powei".  \\  hen  a  speech  is  once  written  it  is 
finished.  But  when  merely  planned  and  outlined,  all 
stories,  rpiotations,  incidents,  and  liappy  turns  of  language 
discovered  afterward,  may  be  noted  on  the  wi'itten  j)lan, 
or  slipped  into  an  envelope  with  it,  and  afterward  used  at 
anytime  without  the  labor  ne^-essary  to  adjust  them  to  a 
manuscript  discourse. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Ouatok'.s  Looio. 

Loffic  is  either  one  ol'  the  most  useful  or  one  of"  the 
mo.st  useless  acquisitions  of  the  orator.  As  tauuht  in  the 
middle  ages,  with  its  l)arl)ai'ous  jargon  of  syndxils  aiid 
terms,  it  ean  ad<l  hut  little  directly  to  the  force  or  truth  ol" 
any  man's  speech,  altliough  even  in  that  form  it  may,  like 
most  other  studies,  aecompli.-h  s(»methiug  in  the  way  of 
shariK'uing  the  critical  faculty  and  sti'engthening  memory 
and  attention.  Its  definitions,  al>o,  are  not  altogcthei- 
\-alueless.  Ihit  not  one  student  in  a  thousand  will  apply 
\t>  cund)rous  rules  in  shaping  his  own  reasoning,  or  in 
iudi>ini>-  of  the  reasonino-  of  others.  If  the  reader  has 
studied  logic  his  own  experience  may  he  couHdently 
appealed  to.  Do  you  ever,  in  reading  an  argument, 
notice  to  which  figure  and  mood  of  the  syllogism  it  con- 
forms? If  the  argument  seems  false,  do  you  ever  seek 
to  find  whether  the  fault  is  in  negative  promises,  want 
of  distribution  of  the  middle  term,  oi"  in  the  violation  of 
any  other  technical  rule  of  logic?  The  mind  has  a 
much  more  direct  and  summary  mode  for  disposing  of 
unsatisfactory  arguments. 

But  the  principles  of  logic  are  few  and  simple,  and 
when  divested  of  all  technicality,  are  of  universal  appli- 

248 


THE  orator's  logic.  249 

cation.     \\'e  will  vciituiH'  [<>  point  ont  soni(!  that  inav  be 
of  especial  service  to  tlie  speaker: 

1st.  Clear  definition.  The  speaker  should  know  the 
meaning  of  his  subject  and  of  all  the  important  terms 
use<I  in  connection  with  it.  This  knowledue  he  should 
convey  to  his  iiearcrs  in  tlie  most  clear  and  strikiiiii' 
nuunuT  that  his  ow  n  |»owei's  w  ill  jiennit.  To  haVv'  an 
aiidiencG  misunderstand  the  spwdcei'  so  tiir  that  while  hc 
was  talking  of  one  thing  they  are  understanding  some- 
thing totally  different  (even  if  known  by  the  same  name) 
\\'i>uld  be  a  grave  logical  fault.  Exact  and  comprehen- 
sive definition,  often  enlivened  and  simplified  by  similes 
or  anecdotes,  will  prevent  such  danger. 

2d.  Exact  and  comprehensive  division  of  a  sul)ject  is 
scarcely  less  important  than  clear  definition.  This  is  of 
e(|ual  value  in  studying  a  subject  and  in  presenting  it  to 
an  audience.  If  we  wished  to  sj)eak  or  learn  about  the 
ocean,  one  of  the  first  fiicts  to  be  dealt  with  would  be  its 
division  into  five  parts — Atlantic,  Pacific,  etc.  A  good 
|)rinciple  of  division  should  always  be  selected  and  faith- 
fully ap})lied.  Then  as  many  subdivisions  may  beaildcd 
as  naturally  follow' from  the  apjdication  of  anidhci-  good 
principleof division.  Thus,astr(momy may befirst defined 
as  "  the  science  of  the  stars."  Then  it  can  be  divided 
into  planetary  and  stellar  astronomy.  The  former  may 
,  be  subdivided  into  descriptions  of  the  individual  j)lanets 
and  other  bodies  in  the  solar  system  ;  the  latter  into  the 


2-50  EXTEMPORE    SPEECn. 

rlassps  of  ohjpr'ls  founrl  anionfj  tlio  fixprl  stars.  All  of 
this  is  not  a  rlictorical  (»r  oratorical  device,  Init  has  its 
foundation  in  mental  laws;   in  other  words,  it  is  loiiiral. 

3d.  Classification  lies  at  tlH>  fouiulatioii  of  many  of 
the  sciences,  and  is  a  process  of  the  hij2;hest  importance 
in  every  domain  of  kno\vl('dt>e.  In  no  other  manner 
can  the  vast  multitude  of  facts  discovercnl  by  millions  of 
observing  eyes  be  preserved  and  made  useful.  The 
orator  must  also  classify  his  general  knowlediic,  and  that 
special  part  of  it  which  he  intends  to  use  for  a  sj)eech. 
All  his  proofs,  a])peals,  illustrative  facts,  and  even  his 
digressions  should  be  arranged  according  to  those  natural 
bonds  of  congruity  which  constitute  the  basis  of  all  clas- 
sification. 

But  in  what  way  can  the  person  who  is  ignorant  of 
technical  logic  make  a  harmonious  classification  ?  It 
will  not  add  much  to  his  ability  to  tell  him  that  two 
processes — abstraction  and  generalization — are  the  basis 
of  all  true  classification.  It  is  simplei-  and  means  the 
same  to  savthat  thinii^s  should  be  classed  together  mIiIcIi 
agree  in  some  permanent  and  fundamental  quality. 
Thus  avast  mimber  of  animals  of  the  most  varied  sizes, 
shapes,  and  powers,  agree  in  having  backbones  and  are 
therefore  put  into  a  class  and  called  vertehrates.  The 
study  of  agreements  and  similarities  in  things  the  most 
diverse  is  exceedingly  profitable  to  the  orator  in  many 
diiferent  wavs.    It  affords  inexhaustible  material  for  illus- 


THE  orator's  logic.  251 

trations — "■  thosf  windows  of  speech."  Tlif  ditfeivnee 
between  the  likcnc^  iijx.n  wliicli  classification  anrl  illus- 
trations are  based  is  about  as  follows:  The  similarities 
which  give  rise  to  scientific  classes  are  very  important 
and  essential ;  those  from  which  illustrations  spring  may 
he  slight  and  superficial. 

These  three  processes  are  of  more  im])ortance  to  the 
*  orator  than  any  others  end)raced  in  logic.  There  is 
nothing  "  dry  "  or  "  repulsive  "  about  them — terms  quite 
frequently  a])plied  to  discourses  which  turn  aside  from 
their  own  direct  purpose  to  disj)lay  the  mere  machinery 
of  reason  in  0-.  By  division  a  di>tiiict  inq)rcssi()n  is  made 
of  each  part  of  a  siibja-t ;  by  definition  all  misunder- 
standings are  clearetl  away  and  attention  fixal  upon  the 
very  ])oints  at  issue ;  by  classification  all  thoughts  find 
their  propel'  |»laccs  and  are  so  gathered  up  into  g.  neral 
ideas  and  joined  with  other  familiar  thoughts,  by  way  ol' 
illustration,  that  tiny  may  easily  be  remembered  and 
a])i)lied. 

But  how  aliout  the  sxllogism  which  logical  treatises 
devote  so  much  time  to  explaining  V  Its  many  xai'icties 
and  endless  transformations  wrought  out  by  acute  miixls 
irom  the  time  of  Aristotle  to  the  present,  are  curious  and 
interesting,  but  they  are  not  s])ecially  available  for  a 
speaker.  Yet,  since  they  rest  upon  a  few  easily  undtr- 
h^tood  principles,  we  will  refer  to  the  m(»st  obvious. 

If  two  things  each  resemble  a  third  it  is  certain  that 


252  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

lliev  also  rost'inlilc  cinli  ntlicr.  If  (iiio  tliiiij;;  cipials  a 
stH'ond,  but  does  not  <'(|iial  a  third,  tlicii  the  second  and 
thii'd  do  nut  cuiial  caeli  other. 

In  the  syUogisni  two  (•(>nn)arisons  are  made  and  the 
resultino-  agreement  or  disagreement  is  expressed  in  the 
eonehision.     Thus : 

Corruj)t  men  are  bad  citizens. 
Men  buying  or  selling  votes  are  corrupt  men. 
Therefore,  men  buying  or  selling  votes  are  bad 
citizens. 

Here  the  class  of  corrupt  men  agrees  with.the  class  oi 
bad  citizens ;  it  also  agrees  with  the  class  who  buy  or 
sell  votes ;  now,  as  it  agrees  with  each  of  the  two  classes, 
it  is  certain  that  those  two  classes  also  agree  with  each 
other.     This  is  the  plain  form  of  the  syllogism. 

The  following  is  an  instance  of  disagreement  : 

Good  citizens  are  patriotic  men. 

Traitors  are  not  patriotic. 

Therefore,  traitors  are  not  good  citizens. 

When  an  agreement  and  disagreement  are  thus  stated 
in  the  first  and  second  lines,  the  result  stated  in  the  third 
line  must  be  a  disagreement.  But  if  the  first  and  second 
lines  both  state  disagreements  no  result  can  be  drawn, 
for  there  is  more  than  one  mode  of  disagreement.  This 
may  be  illustrated  bv  the  case  of  two  witnesses  to  the 


THE  orator's  T.orac.  2o.3 

same  circunii-tance.  If  both  tell  tlie  truth  tlioir  stories 
will  agree;  if  one  tells  the  truth  and  the  other  does  not, 
their  stories  disagree;  but  if  neither  tells  the  trntli, their 
stories  may  or  may  not  agece — that  is,  they  may  tell  the 
same  falsehood  or  different  kinds  of  falsehood. 

In  the  syllogism  it  is  necessary  to  see  that  the  com- 
parisons made  are  real  and  not  tictitions.  False  logic  or 
fallacies  arise  where  a  comparison  seems  to  l)e  made 
which  is  not  real.  Part  of  one  thing  or  class  may  be 
compared  with  the  whole  of  another,  and  then  an  agree- 
ment affirmetl  or  denied  for  the  whole  of  the  two  things 
or  classes,  and  this  fatal  fault  in  reasoning  may  Ix'  very 
carefnlly  concealed.  It  can  usually  be  detected  by  tiu-n- 
ing  around  the  sentence  in  which  the  defective  compari- 
■son  is  made.     Thus  : 

^Fen  are  animals. 
Horses  are  animals. 
Therefore,  men  are  horses. 

This  seems  to  l)e  a  perftx-tly  fair  spei-imen  of  correct 
syllogisms.  But  in  the  first  line  the  class  "men"  is 
comparal  with  only  a  j)art  of  the  class  "  animals,"  and 
in  the  second  line  the  Avhole  of  the  class  "horses"  is 
compared  with  another  part  of  the  class  "  animals,"  and 
as  the  comparison  is  not  restricted  to  the  same  objects  no 
statement  of  agreement  or  disagreement  can  be  made. 
\\'e  detect  the  insufficiency  of  the  comparison  by  saying, 


2o4  HXTK.Ml'OUE    SI'EECir. 

it  is  true  tJiat  all  men  are  animals,  but  not  true  that  all 
animals  are  men. 

Another  niocle  of"  makint:;  a  seeiniui;-  comparison 
without  the  reality  is  hy  nsiiiu-  words  in  unlike  senses. 
Thus  : 

All  liaiit  bodies  dispel  darkness. 

A  hag-  of  ieathei's  is  a  lioht   hodv. 

Theretore,  a  hag"  of  feathers  will  dispel  dnrkncss. 

To  guard  again>t  this  and  all  siinilnr  .'aLacies  it  is 
oidy  necessary  to  notice  whether  the  (dni|)arison  is  Ijiir 
and  comiilete.  J'ractice  will  give  great  ex|)ertness  in 
deling  this,  c\'en  when  the  comparison  is  implied  rather 
than  expressed. 

Indeed,  the  greater  part  of  reasoning  lies  outside  the 
range  of  formal  logic.  The  orator  who  would  reduce 
each  argument  to  a  syllogistic  form  would  be  considered 
a  clown  endeavoring  to  make  sport  of,  or  for  his  au- 
dience. A  statement  is  oft-^n  made  Avhich  depends  for 
its  validity  upon  a  comparison  or  even  a  series  of  com- 
j)arisons  either  flashing  through  the  mind  at  the  mo- 
ment, or  recjalled  as  having  previously  been  made.  To 
this  there  can  be  no  objection,  ])rovided  such  conn)ari- 
sons  are  obvious  and  indisputable.  If  a  chain  of  rea- 
soning rests  upon  the  understanding  that  all  men  desire 
to  be  happy,  it  will  be  just  as  forcible  as  if  that 
truism  were  statal  or  proved.     Anything  which  an  an- 


THE  orator's  logic.  255 

dience  will  accept  witliuut  (jucstion  is  only  weakened  bv 
the  procet5se.s  of  proof.  Something  must  be  taUen  for 
granted  in  all  hinds  of  argument,  and  the  wider  the 
domain  of  such  assumptions  can  be  fairly  made  the  bet- 
ter for  the  interest  and  effectiveness  of  the  arguments 
which  l()llo\v. 

A  syllogism  in  wliicli  one  of  the  essential  parts  is  left 
to  be  supplied  in  the  mind  is  called  an  enthynieme,  and 
is  the  most  common  of  all  forms  of  reasoning.  AVhen- 
ever  we  state  a  fact,  and  adduce  a  reason  for  that  fact,  it. 
takes  this  form.  As  an  instance,  we  may  give  the  beati- 
tudes in  the  fifth  chapter  of  St.  Matthew.  In  each  we 
have  a  declaration  made  and  a  reason  given  for  that 
declaration,  but  that  reason  would  have  no  net'essary 
validity  were  it  not  for  a  well-understood  principle,  upon 
which,  in  each  case,  it  is  founded.  When  it  is  said, 
"  Blessed  are  the  poor  in  spirit  ;  for  theirs  is  the  king- 
d(»m  of  heaven,"  we  mentally  add,  or  concede  even  with- 
out thinking  it,  "  whoever  has  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is 
blessed. '^ 

The  same  declaration  may  be  put  in  logical  form,  thus*: 

Whoever    possesses  the   kingdom   of  heaven   is 

blessed. 
The  poor  in  spirit  possess  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
Therefore,  they  are  blessed. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  in  all  the  beatitudes  the  syllo- 


2oG  EXTF.MroRE    SPEFX'H. 

gisiu  i.s  inverted,  tlie  (•oiiclusioii  coming  first  (whicli  also 
is  placal  in  an  inverted  form),  wliile  the  major  premise  is 
left  to  be  mentally  snj)plied. 

Another  instance  may  be  tiiven  of  this  most  common 
of  all  the  syllogistic  forms — the  only  one  of  which  the 
orator  makes  very  frwpient  nse. 

It  is  stated,  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart;  for  they 
shall  see  God ;"  the  reader  mentally  supplies,  "  and  those 
who  see  God  are  blessed." 

Or  in  syllogistic  form  : 

Those  who  see  G(xl  are  blessed. 

The  })nre  in  heart  see  Ciod. 

Therefore,  the  pure  in  heart  are  blessed. 

The  great  frequency  of  the  enthymeme  is  explained  by 
the  very  nature  of  reasoning,  Avhich — at  least  in  the  case 
of  the  true  orator — ever  proceeds  from  the  known  to 
the  unknown.  One  of  our  propositions  should  either 
be  self-evident  or  tacitly  conceded  ;  it  need  not  therefore 
be  expressed.  The  other  must  be  brought  out  fully  ami 
})roved  by  appropriate  evidence,  and  from  these  two 
foundations  we  draw  out  the  conclusion,  or,  what  is  only 
another  way  of  accomplishing  the  same  purpose,  Ave 
state  the  conclusion  and  then  give  a  reason  for  it,  which 
itself  rests  upon  another  reason  mentally  supplied.  We 
may  test  the  correot-uess  of  the  process  by  inquiring  if 
the  unexpressed  reason  be  of  the  nature  of  a  necessary, 


THE  ohatok's  logic.  257 

or  at  least  of  a  generally  received,  truili  ;  then,  ii"  tlu' 
expressed  reason  is  supported  by  impregnal)le  evideiiee 
(wliieh  in  the  case  of  the  beatitudes  is  the  authority  of 
Teacher  Himself);  and  linally,  if  the  conclusion  inevit- 
ably results  from  the  union  of  the  two  prweiling  parts. 

Much  might  be  said  of  fallacies  and  their  various 
forms,  but  the  student  who  has  not  time  to  pursue  a  full 
course  of  logic  would  find  little  |)rofit  in  such  a  brief 
sketch  as  is  here  possible.  It  will  be  enough  to  point 
out  that  all  false  reasoning  involves  a  violation  of  some 
logical  rules,  the  simplest  and  most  useful  of  which 
we  have  already  pointed  out.  'i'lie  orator  who  carefully 
defines  his  terms,  who  watches  every  comparison  to  see 
if  it  is  real  and  not  merely  pretende<l,  who  refuses  to 
accept  a  plausil)le  statement  for  a  universal  ti-iith,  who 
notices  what  an  argument  takes  Ibr  granted  as  carefully 
as  what  it  states,  will  not  be  likely  to  conunit  glaring 
errors  himself,  or  to  Ix^  led  into  them  by  others. 

In  citutroversy  a  most  important  logical  direction  may 
be  o-Iven.  Strive  to  ascertain  Just  the  standpoint  of 
the  audience  in  regard  to  your  subject.  Hvery  speaker 
lias  much  in  conunon  with  his  hearers,  and  if  he  would 
convince  or  persuade  them  he  must  >tart  from  that 
conunon  |)osition. 

In  doing  this  there  is  no  com})romise  of  principle. 
It  is  simplv  leaving  out  of  view  points  of  difference 
unlil  points  of  agreement  are  exjilored.      From  these  an 


258  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

argument,  as  strong  as  logic  can  make  it,  should  lead  to 
the  conclusion  either  in  thought  or  action  to  which  you 
wish  your  audience  conducted.  The  eminent  Methodist 
missionary,  Rev.  Wm.  Taylor,  in  speaking  to  the 
heathen  of  Africa,  used  first  to  dwell  upon  those  things 
in  their  belief  which  were  common  with  his  own,  giving 
them  credit  for  trying  to  worship  the  true  God  as  well 
as  they  could,  and  then  declaring  that  he  came  to  them 
with  a  fuller  revelation  from  the  same  source.  In  this 
way  he  persuaded  thousands  to  accept  his  guidance  and 
believe  the  Bible,  mIio  M'ould  have  been  utterly  repelled 
if  he  had  first  attacked  their  superstitions,  and  tried  to 
shoAV  that  they  were  wrong  in  everything.  In  the  same 
manner  every  masterly  persuader  of  men  must  proceed. 
Seeking  out  all  that  he  regards  as  true  in  tlieir  opinions 
and  beliefs,  he  will  waste  no  time  in  proving  what  they 
already  believe,  or  in  persuading  them  to  do  what  they 
are  already  engaged  in,  but  Avill  show  them  other  things 
Avhich  necessarily  follow  from  what  they  already  admit. 
St.  Paul,  on  Mars'  Hill,  got  a  great  logical  advantage 
by  his  reference  to  the  Unknown  God,  and  from  this 
starting  place  he  worked  his  way  carefully  to  the  new 
truth  which  he  had  to  declare.  A  political  orator  may 
simply  abuse  the  opposite  party;  but  he  makes  no  con- 
verts and  wins  no  enduring  laurels  by  that  method.  If 
he  will  strive  to  understand  the  position  of  his  opponents 
and  then  from  the  great  principles  regarding  govern- 


THE  orator's  logic.  259 

raent,  which  all  parties  hold  in  oouiiuon,  proceed  to 
show  that  the  side  he  advoeates  carries  out  those  princi- 
ples to  their  legitimate  result,  Ik;  may  change  votes, 
and  will  be  s(»ught  for  where  the  empty  declamation  of 
one  who  pursues  the  opposite  course  would  be  felt  as 
a  hindrance  rather  than  a  helj).  "  What  do  you  do 
when  you  have  no  case  at  all?"  said  one  lawyer  to 
another.  "Oh!"  was  the  reply,  "I  abuse  the  opposite 
counsel."  This  was  only  a  mode  of  covering  a  retreat, 
and  may  have  answered  that  pur})ose  well  enough  after 
the  battle  had  been  lost ;  but  as  long  as  there  is  any  hope 
of  convincing  the  judge  or  winning  the  jury,  such  abuse 
is  worse  than  useless.  The  advocate  should  not,  how- 
ever, take  his  opponent's  view  of  the  subject  at  issue 
as  the  groundwork  of  his  argument,  but  that  which  he 
believes  the  jury  to  entertain.  Success  in  this  instance 
is  not  won  by  convincing  an  >p])onent,  but  by  bringing 
over  to  his  views  that  Ixxly  of  men  in  the  jury-box  who 
are  supposed  to  be  impartial,  but  who  always  have  their 
mode  of  viewing  any  given  subject — a  mode  which  an 
ingenious  and  observant  advocate  \\\\\  not  be  slow  to 
discover. 

There  are  three  phases  of  any  controverted   question 

which  the  orator  who  will  discuss  it  succ(Nsfully  needs 

to  study.     He  should  know  and  (\-;timate  justly  all  that 

.  a  determined  opponent  of  hi-i  own  view  can  advance. 

Nothing  is  gained  bv  tailing  u<  :i]»[)reciale  tin.'  strength 


200  EXTEMPORE    SPEECH. 

and  plausibility  of  an  advei*>ai'v'.s  po.sition.  Complete 
justice  to  an  enemy  is  often  the  first  step  to  complete 
victory  over  him.  Then  the  position  of  that  part  of 
an  audience — possibly  few  in  numbers,  but  from  the 
logical  standpoint  exceedingly  importtuit — who  are  in 
suspense,  and  as  ready  to  fall  to  one  side  as  the  other, 
ought  to  be  fully  weighed.  The  more  perfectly  intel- 
lectual sympathy  exists  between  t  hem  and  the  orator,  the 
more  likely  is  he  to  bring  them  over  to  his  own  party. 
And  this  is  the  great  object  to  be  aimed  at.  Pronounced 
oj)p()nents  are  not  often  converted.  "A  man  convinced 
against  his  will  is  of  the  same  opinion  still."  The 
attention  directed  to  them  is  really  for  the  sake  of  the 
doul)tful  class  who  may,  unless  resistance  is  offered,  be 
W'On  over  by  their  efforts. 

Some  attention  may  also  properly  be  given  by  the 
speaker  to  confiiMiiing  his  own  party  by  showing  them 
the  solid  grounds  upon  which  their  o})inions  rest.  But 
usually  the  same  arguments  wliich  are  likely  to  decide 
the  wavering  will  best  accomplish  this  purpose  also. 
Beginning  with  a  sim])le  but  clearly  defined  statement 
of  those  principles  or  facts  upon  which  he  intends  to 
base  his  arguments,  and  al)out  which  no  difference  of 
opinion  is  possible,  he  shows  clearly  that  tlie  opinions  he 
and  liis  friends  hold  must  follow  f'-oin  the  grounds 
already  conceded.  This  should  beset  forth  as  the  estab- 
lishment of  positive  truth  rather  than  as  the  refutation 


THE  orator's  logic.  261 

of  any  errors  ;  ilicn,  w  hen  llic  wiivccfrs  luive  lioen  con- 
vinced and  h'\>  own  party  .struii*;ly  contirnied,  he  may, 
with  advantage,  show  the  weakness  and  absnrdity  of  the 
position  of  those  who  hold  opposed  views.  Snch  a 
oonrse  pnrsned  by  an  able  reiisoner  who  really  has  trnth 
on  his  side,  M'hich  lu'thoi-ouirlily  understands,  will  seldom 
fail  to  win  all  whose  minds  are  open  to  conviction. 

It  is  to  these  broad  principles  and  to  the  carefnl  study 
of  all  aspects  of  the  questions  he  has  to  treat,  rather  than 
to  the  refinements  of  medijeval  logic,  that  we  would  direct 
the  orator's  attention.  Whoever  will  follow  the  course 
prescribed  in  preceding  chapters,  carefully  arranging  the 
outline  of  his  address,  mastering  all  his  material,  and 
speaking  the  language  of  his  own  convictions,  will  be 
trnlvloiricai,  and  sucii  louic  carried  to  the  hii>lu'st  dcoree 
will  take  nothing  from  any  other  grace  either  of  form  oi; 
substance  that  belongs  to  oratorv. 


CHAPTEK  XTI. 
After  the  Speech. 

AVhcii  a  fervent  and  .siiecessfiil  discourse  lias  been  con- 
cluded there  comes  a  feeling  of  inexpressible  relief.  The 
burden  of  an  important  speech  rests  with  accumulatiuii' 
force  u[)on  the  mind  from  the  time  the  subject  is  chosen 
until  it  becomes  well-nigh  intolerable.  When  speech 
actually  begins  every  power  is  calle<l  into  play  and  ex- 
erted to  its  utmost  capacity.  The  excitement  of  the 
conflict  hurries  the  speaker  on,  and  although  he  may  not 
at  the  time  realize  the  gigantic  exertions  put  forth,  yet 
when  he  pauses  at  length,  perhaps  exhausted,  but  with 
the  victory  won,  the  sense  of  rest,  relief,  and  security,  is 
exceedingly  delightful. 

After  such  an  efibrt  botli  mind  and  body  do  need  rest. 
There  are  speakers  who  pi-ofess  to  feel  no  fatigue  after 
an  hour's  labor,  but  these  are  seldom  in  the  front  rank 
of  orators.  If  the  soul  has  been  aroused  and  all  the 
man's  faculties  bent  to  the  accomplishment  of  a  great 
purpose,  relaxation  is  often  followed  by  a  sense  of  utter 
prostration.  Nothing  better  for  the  moment  can  be 
advised  than  to  abandon  one's  self  to  the  luxury  of  utter 
repose.  Social  intercourse  and  all  distractions  should  as 
far  as  possible  be  avoided.     If  circumstances  permit,  a 

262 


AFTER    THE    SPEECH.  263 

short  v«iieep,  if  but  tor  a  few  minutes,  Avill  afford  great 
relief;  and  in  most  cases  sleep  will  come  if  Avisely 
courted. 

After  resting,  it  is  well  to  ponder  closely  the  lessons 
derived  from  each  new  experience  in  speaking.  To  in- 
dulge in  exultation  over  success  or  to  lament  over  fail- 
ure is  not  profitable.  The  speaker  is  not  a  perfect  judge 
of  either.  He  has  probably  done  the  best  he  could  at 
the  time,  and  there  the  case  should  rest,  except  so  far  as 
he  sees  the  need  or  the  means  of  future  improvement. 

But  judgment  of  success  or  failure  cannot  easily  be 
avoidetl.  If  the  speaker's  standard  is  low,  he  may  pass 
beyond  it  without  accomplishing  anything  worthy  of 
liigh  praise:  or  if  he  is  despondent  in  nature  he  may 
have  expectal  little  and  may  now  feel  correspondingly 
elated  because  he  ha.s  exceetled  his  very  moderate  expecta- 
tions. But  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  speakers  are  often 
least  pleased  with  their  best  spe(H-hcs.  In  the  mightiest 
efforts  of  the  mind  the  standard  is  placed  very  high — 
perhaps  beyond  the  ])ossil)ility  of  attainment — and  the 
speaker  works  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  that  sunnnit, 
and  probably,  after  all  his  exertions,  sees  it  shining  still 
far  above  him.  His  ideas  are  but  half  expressal ;  he 
is  mortified  that  there  should  be  such  a  difference 
between  conception  and  realization.  But  his  hearers 
have  been  letl  over  untrodden  fields  of  thought,  and 
'  knowing  nothing  of  the  grander  heights  still  above  the 


264  EXTEMl'DnE    Sl'KF.Cir. 

orator's  lifa<l,  they  arc  naturally  lillcd  with  «'iillm>lasin, 
aiitl  caiiuot  t'litei'  into  tlic  l('cliii<i>  ot'tlic  s|K'ak('r  il*  he  is 
fl)()lisli  (Mi()Uji|;li  to  tell  tlifiii  (if  his  (hsaj)|M»iiitin('nt. 

This  is  the  reason  that  wo  arc  least  al^le  to  Judii'e  of 
the  sureess  of"  speeches  that  have  been  long  nietlitate<l 
and  thorouohly  prepared.  The  subject  expands  as  we 
stndv,  its  outlines  becoininti'  grander  and  vaster  until  they 
pass  beyond  our  powei-ot"  adecpiate  representation.  Each 
separate  thought  in  the  whole  discussion  that  is  fully 
mastered  becomes  familiar,  and  is  not,  therefore,  valued 
at  its  true  worth.  Sometimes,  when  we  begin  to  speak 
witii  little  thought,  intending  to  give  only  easy  and 
common  views  of  the  sul)ject,  everything  appears  fresh 
l)el()re  us,  and  if  some  striking  ideas  arise,  their  novelty 
gives  them  three-fold  value,  and  we  imagine  that  wo 
have  made  a  great  speech.  All  this  constitutes  no  argu- 
ment against  diligent  prej)aration,  but  it  should  stimu- 
late us  to  bring  lip  our  j)owers  of  expression  more  nearly 
to  the  level  of  our  conceptions. 

There  should  never  bo  extreme  discouragement  over 
an  apjxirent  failure.  Some  good  end  may  be  reached 
even  by  a  very  poor  speech.  One  evening  the  writer 
j)reached  when  M'eary  and  almost  nnpre])ared.  From 
first  to  last  the  effort  was  painfid,  and  to  ])revent  abso- 
lute failure  the  intended  plan  had  to  be  abandoned,  and 
detached  thoughts  from  any  source  thrown  in.  Yet 
that  discourse,  which  was  scart^ely  worthy  of  the  name, 


AFTER    THE    SPEECH.  265 

elicited  wanner  ;n)[)n>val  ami  did  more  apparent  good 
than  any  one  preaehed  ior  several  previous  months. 
One  or  two  fortunate  illustrations  redeemed  every  defect, 
so  far  as  the  audience  (hut  not  the  speaker)  was  con- 
cerned. 

Whatever  judgment  we  may  entertain  of  our  own 
performances,  it  is  not  usually  wise  to  tell  our  hearers, 
or  to  ask  their  opinions.  Criticisms  spontaneously 
offered  netKl  not  be  repulsed,  but  all  seeking  for  commen- 
dation is  childish  or  (hsgustiiig.  It  is  sweet  to  hear 
our  effi)rts  ])raise(l,  and  most  oi'  men  can  bear  an  amount 
of  flattery  addresswl  to  themselves  which  would  be  in- 
sufferable if  offcre<l  to  others  ;  but  this  disposition,  if 
nuidi  indulged,  becomes  ungovernable  and  exposes  us  to 
well-deserved  ridicule.  It  is  pitia])le  to  see  a  man  who 
has  been  utt(Ting  wise  and  eh)(|uent  words  afterward 
stoo])ing  to  beg  crusts  of  indiseriminating  flattery  from 
his  hearers. 

A\'hen<'ver  there  is  a  |)i'ubability  that  any  discourse 
will  be  repeated,  it  is  well  to  review  it  soon  after  dc- 
liverv,  while  its  impression  is  still  fi'esh  upon  the  mind, 
and  if  any  defect  appears,  amend  it  in  the  plan,  and  add 
to  the  same  ])lan  all  the  valuable  ideas  that  have  been 
suggested  during  the  spee<'h  or  afterward.  In  this 
manner  we  kee])  each  discourse  uj)  to  the  high  water- 
mark of  our  ability. 

Some  orators  are  accustomed  to  write  their  speeches 


2(\C)  KX'ri:Mi'()i;i':  rpkecii. 

out  in  full  after  drlivfrv,  When  the  theme  is  important 
and  time  permits,  this  is  a  good  exercise,  but  in  many — 
])ei4iaps  the  majority  of  eases — the  labor  would  outweiuh 
the  j)rofit. 

>(0  such  objection  applies  to  reviewing  and  correcting 
a  verbatim  report  of  our  speeches.  To  many  s})eakcrs 
?uch  a  review  of  the  exact  words  they  have  uttered 
would  be  a  striking  and  not  altogether  j)leasing  revela- 
tion. ]\'t  ])hrases,  which  might  otherwise  be  unnoticed 
for  years ;  faults  of  expression,  and  especially  the  pro- 
fuscness  of  words,  in  which  oxtem])oraneous  speakers  are 
temj)ted  to  indidge; — would  all  Ik-  forcHnl  upon  our  notice. 
W  i  would  be  surprised  to  learn  that  we  could  often 
write  the  discourse  in  one-fourth  the  words  employed  in 
delivery.  To  form  the  habit  of  thus  condensing  our 
s])eeches  after  delivery  would  have  a  ])owerfid  tend- 
ency^ toward  compacting  thought  in  speech  itself.  The 
only  hindrance  in  a])plying  this  capital  means  of  im- 
provement consists  in  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  such 
shorthand  reports.  Where  this  cannot  be  overcome  a 
|)art  of  the  advantage  may  be  gained  by  .taking  the  plan 
and  from  it  writing  out  the  same  kind  of  a  compact  pre- 
sentation of  the  thoughts  as  uttered.  This  differs  from 
writing  in  full  by  making  no  effort  to  record  exact 
words  or  forms  of  expression,  but  only  to  recall  from 
memory  and  from  the  sketch  the  exact  thoughts  that 
were  expressed  in  the  language  of  the  moment.     Even 


AFTER    THE   SPEECH.  267 

if  the  same  kin<l  of  liriet'skrtcli  lias  l)eeii  niatlo  previous 
to  the  act  ot"  speech,  this  does  not  lake  the  pUn-e  oi'  what 
we  now  reeoinniend ;  for  the  former  outline  may  have 
l)een  greatly  modified  by  the  experience  of  delivery. 

In  whatever  form  the  best  result  of  the  discoui'se  is 
recordetl,  great  care  should  be  taken  in  its  preservation. 
The  plan,  sketch,  or  fully  written  discourse  may  be 
slipped  into  an  envelope  (which  may  also  contain  all 
illustrative  scraps,  notes,  or  references  to  Ixtoks  that  bear 
upon  the  discourse)  and  on  the  back  may  he  written  the 
title,  time,  and  character  of  delivery,  with  aii\-  other  i'aets 
of  inn)ortan('e.  If  the  young  speaker  will  faithfully 
follow  up  such  a  method  of  recording  the  results  of  his 
oratorical  experience,  he  will  find  it  one  of  the  best  forms 
of  disci])liue,  and  the  record  itself — carefully  indextHl, 
tVe(piently  reviewed,  and  kept  within  reasonable  bulk — - 
will   in  time  possess  a  value  greater  than  gold. 


FINTS. 


ALPHABETICAL  INDEX. 


PAGE 

Autlior's  own  experience, 23 

Advice  to  readers  of  discourses 29 

Ancients  and  moderns, 84 

Augustine, 84 

Antony's  speech  analyzed, 57 

Articulation, 11(5 

Action  in  gesture,      122 

Architecture  of  continuous  liiought, IGO 

Arrangement  of  thought, 164 

liunlens  of  the  extempore  speaker, 15 

r.eecher,  II.  W., 40 

lirutus'  speech  analyzed, 54 

i5cnevolent  emotion, i'7 

Bautain's  comparison, 161 

"Behold," 165 

Bodily  vigor, 193 

Books  of  illustration, 243 

Beatitudes  in  syllogistic  form, 255 

Coldness  of  reading  explained,      23 

Composite  discourse, --J 

Cicero,      33 

Chatliam,  Lord, '56 

Clay, ^"J 

Calhoun,      -i'J 

Critical  taste  must  not  be  too  high 'W; 

Conclusion, 49 

Cultivating  emotional  power, 95 

Conversation,      ^"■* 

Correcting  faults  of  voice, ^^'' 

269 


270  Ai-rMiAUFyncAi.    index. 

PAGE 

Correcting  faults  of  gesture, 122 

Confidence  acquired, 125 

Confidence,  false  and  true, 127 

Confidence,  ])<)wcr  of, 128 

Confidence  while  silent  before  ail  audience, 121) 

Changing  ])lan  at  hut  moment,      1!>0 

Complimentary  introduetions, 201 

Citations  as  intnMhu-tions, 204 

Calamity  from  bad  introductions, 205 

Climax,  law  of, 208 

Crisis  of  discoui-se, 211 

Concluding,  three  ways  of,      215 

Conclusion  should  luive  no  new  matter, 215 

Classification, 250 

Correcting  shorthand  reports, 2(i<i 

Demosthenes, 33 

Discussion,      48 

Dean  Swift's  sermon, 53 

Discussion  in  a  free  state, Otj 

Disease  as  a  hindrance, 81 

Disqualifications  summed  up, 8G 

Drill  on  the  elementary  sounds, 116 

Duty  as  a  remedy  for  fear, 126 

Divisional  or  military  plan, 168 

Deep  breathing, 195 

Difluseness  remedied, 209 

Definition  in  speecli, 249 

Division  in  speecli, 249 

Eloquence  can  be  taught, 9 

Eloquence,  degrees  of,      11 

Essay  or  speech, 29 

Extempore  speech  in  schools, 65 

Education  iu  the  popular  sense, 89 

Extempore  speev.h  cultivates  reason, 94 

Emotion  and  the  will 98 


ALPHABETICAL     INDEX.  271 

PAGE 

Etymology,  use  of, 104 

Empty  speeches, 212 

Enriching  extemixue  .speech,      247 

First  speech, 4() 

Fear  Gv-ercyme, 68 

Fhiency  ami  accuracy  contrasted, 108 

Failure,  a  preacher's, 158 

Five  principles  of  introduction, 205 

Funeral  sjieech  pronounced  by  Pericles, 218 

Fallacies  in  reasoning, 253 

Gladstone,  AV^  PI,      41 

Gladstone,  letter  from,      42 

Gibbon's  militia  service, 92 

Gathering  thought, 159 

Grasping  the  subject  in  a  single  idea, 183 

Great  addresses,  three  plans  of,      217 

Good  results  from  a  poor  speech, 2(j4 

Healthfulness  of  extempore  speech, 19 

Hortensius, 33 

Heroic  self-denial  in  speech, 15(> 

Holyoke's  experience, 193 

Henry  Clay's  eloquence,      214 

Humor  and  pathos, 246 

Humor  cultivated, 24G 

Introduction, 40,  19G 

lm2)romi)tu  speeches, 49 

Initial  fear, 00 

Increasing  thought-power, 90 

Intellectual  emotion, 95 

Imagination, 109 

'  ImagLnatiou  in  the  Bible, 109 

Instrictive  addresses, 141 


272  ALIMIAHKTK  Al.      INDF-.X. 

PAGE 

Introduction  memorized,      197 

Introduction  needed, 198 

Introductions,  kinds  of, 190 

Keeping  the  speecli  t'rcrsli 192 

Lutlicr, ''>'l 

Literary  societies, '" 

Language, ^"^ 

Laws  in  language, 1'*- 

Loudness, 1^' 


Law 


18<» 


Lawyers  not  writers  of  speeches, 1-10 

Lectures,  platform,  anniversary,  and  lyccum, 141 

Lecture  with  varying  titles, l'>' 

Logical  or  mathematical  plans, 1<>^ 

Local  allusions  as  introductions, 208 

Language  adapted  to  oratory, -1" 

Luxury  of  tears, -"!'' 

Logic  for  the  orator, 248 

Logic,  its  narrowness, '^■*° 

Lessons  of  speech, 263 

Mental  weakness, "9 

Memorizing  original  and  selected  gems, 104 

Mental  picture  painting, H'* 

Method  of  gathering  and  retaining  thought, 162 

Military  plans, •    "    '  ^^^ 

Marks  of  a  gDodphui. 1^1 

Nerves  quieted, "1' 

Natural  orators, ^'^ 

Nature  in  the  voice, H^ 

Narrative  plans, 1*^' 

Naming  divisions  in  advance, l'-^ 

Need  of  illustrations, 243 


ALPHAEETrcAF.     rXDKX.  27^) 

PAGE 

Oratory,  natural  and  acquired, 13 

Oratory  of  ornament, 28 

(jVjject  of  speech, ],30 

Objection  to  using  plan  in  public, 178 

Opponent's  position  studied, 257 

l*rejudice,  grounds  for, 9 

I'opular  desire  for  extempore  speech, 19 

Pericles, 34 

Pericles,  funeral  speech  by 218 

Pitt,    William, 30 

Patrick  Henry, 37 

Plan  of  speech  on  Cli'ine><e  immigrntion,      ")(! 

I'crsons  who  cannot  exteni))ori/.c, 75 

Pronunciation, 103 

Poetry   of  science, 112 

Poetry  described, 112 

Persuasion  in  preachintr, 137 

Pen  and  tongtie, 14") 

Power  of  memory, 14.") 

Pen  in  gathering  and  arranging, 14(5 

I'en  in  preserving  speeches, I4(j 

Plan  in  all  discourses, 148 

Plan,  im[)ortance  of  a  good, lOG 

Plans,  varieties  of, 1(J7 

Plan,  marks  of  a  good, 171 

Plan,  how  to  use, 177 

Plan  to  be  memorized, 180 

Preserving  the  plan  after  speaking, 180 

I*assage  from  introduction  to  discussion, 207 

I  Measure  of  speaking  well 207 

Principles  of  logic, 249 

Readers  deceive  themselves 31 

Recitations  emotional, 32 

"Robertson,  Frederick  W., 37 

Rude  speech  plans, 5U 


^27^  AI-PMAHHTHAL      INDHX. 

PAr.H 

Rousing  energy  at  the  last  monicnl ITH 

Recited  and  extemporized  introductions, IIM- 

Rest  after  speech, 2(52 

Repeating  and  amending  sj>eeches, 2!i0 

Sydney  Smith's  sermon, 20 

Spurgeon, 40 

tSpurgeon,  sermon  l)y, 2;W 

Simplest  Iramework, 4(J 

Sketch  containing  three  words, r»2 

Sketch  memorized, 02 

Sketch  on  fhe  orean, ,"),■; 

Stimulus  of  controversy, (u 

Sketches  on  f/ie  anite.rnfloa  0/  Cnhn, (I!l 

Seeing  with  our  own  eyes, !t2 

Source  of  Greek  eloquence, !»(} 

Sentence-casting, ];{] 

Seductive  but  misleading  methods, ].'},'{ 

Sermons, •     .  ];i(j 

Sermon    texts, l.'W 

Subject  and  object  Compared, l')2 

Subject   <lcfinite, l-'j^ 

Sydney  Smith  "sticking  to  his  text," loT 

Sermon  on  Mars' Hill, 109 

Sermon  dryness, ]74 

Shorthand,  use  of, 184 

Speech  as  a  battle ],S7 

"Stage  fright," ]S!) 

Sermon  by  Rev.  C.  H.  Spurgeon 2.S(t 

Sermon  on  the  Mount, 241 

Sources  of  illustniliojis, 244 

Syllogisms, 2")! 

Syllogisms  abbreviated, 255 

Seek;ing  praise, 265 

Training,  effects  of, 10 

Time  saving, 24,175 


AI.PHAP.ETICAI,     INDEX.  27o 

PAGE 

Transition 48 

Three  cla.s.se3  of  men  ill  respect  to  eloquence, 74 

Timidity  may  be  overcome, 77 

Thought  and  emotion, 87 

Thought-gathering, 159 

Textual  plans, 167 

TertuUus, 201 

Topics  of  the  day  as  introductions, 20;i 

Things  seen,  heard,  or  imagined  as  introductions,    .    .    .  20") 

Taylor,  the  Methodist  missionary, 2r)S 

Unconscious  gesticulation 124 

Use  of  other  speakers' sketches, 171 

Voice  and  gesture, 114 

Various  fields  of  oratory, 13o 

Why  extempore  sjieecli  is  emotional, 22 

Whitefield,      '  .  38 

Wesley, 38 

Webster, 40 

Written  composition  a  hindrance  and  a  help, 4.") 

Writer's  first  speech, 61 

Weak  voices, 70 

Wordless  men, 83 

Waiting  for  the  moment  of  beginning, 189 

Webster,  anecdote  of, 203 

Writing  after  delivery, 265 


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^  923  Arch  Street,  Philadelphia 


Choice  Humor 


FOR  READING  AND  RECITA- 
TION 
By  Charles  C.  Shoemaker 
Paper  Binding,  30  Cents 
Cloth,  50  Cents 

1  f  Z*^'^^'"""  I         ^^  '^^  name  implies,  the  selections 
""  ■'""'"-'      are    chosen   with   the   greatest    care, 
avoiding  the  coarse  and  vulgar  on  the 
one  hand,  and  the  flat  and  insipid  on 
the  other. 

The  compiler  has  had  unequaled  facilities  for  securing 
the  best  readings  of  every  character,  and  the  present 
volume  may  be  considered  without  a  rival.  The  pieces 
are  new,  but  few  of  them  having  previonsly  appeared  ir; 
any  similar  publication,  and  the  range  of  subjects  is  un- 
usually wide. 

The  repertoires  of  many  of  the  best  amateur  and 
professional  readers  have  been  examined  and  the 
choicest  bits  of  humor  have  been  carefully  culled 
and  bound  up  in  this  rich,  golden  sheaf,  and  are 
here  offered  to  the  public  for  the  first  time  in  book 
form. 

This  book  was  prepared  to  meet  a  widespread  demand^ 
it  became  popular  immediately  upon  its  publication,  and 
its  continuous  and  increasing  sale  ever  since  has  been 
almost  phenomenal.  No  public  reader  or  reciter  can 
afford  to  be  without  it,  as  it  contains  some  of  the  best 
selections  in  print. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
ofsrice. 

The  Penn  Publishing  Company 

923  Arch  Street,  Philadelphia 


Choice  Dialect 


FOR  READING  AND  RECITA- 
TION 
By  Charles  C.  Shoemaker 
Paper  Binding,  30  Cents 
Cloth,  50  Cents 
This  popular  and  attractive  volume 
contains  a  rare  collection  of  Choice 
Dialect  of  every  variety,  covering  a 
broad  range  of  sentiment,  and  suited 
to  any  public  or  private  occasion  where    readings    or 
recitations  are  the  order  of  entertainment.     The  transi- 
tions from  grave  to  gay,  from  humorous  to  pathetic,  and 
from  the  simply  descriptive  to  the  highly  dramatic,  will 
be  found  unusually  wide. 

Many  of  the  selections  have  never  before  appeared  in 
print,  and  a  number  of  others  have  been  specially  ar- 
ranged for  this  volume.  It  is  believed  that  the  book  will 
meet  the  wants  of  those  who  are  partial  to  selections  in 
dialect,  but  whose  good  taste  and  good  sense  are  often 
shocked  by  the  coarseness  that  too  frequently  prevails  in 
books  of  this  character. 

Among  its  contents  will  be  found  selections  in  all  dia- 
lects, such  as  Irish,  Scotch,  German,  Negro,  etc.,  and 
representing  all  phases  of  sentiment,  the  humorous,  pa- 
thetic, dramatic,  etc.,  thus  affording  full  scope  to  the  varied 
attainments  of  the  reader  or  reciter,  and  adapting  it  emi- 
nently to  the  needs  of  the  amateur  and  professional  elocu- 
tionist. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
of  price. 

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Choice  Dialogues 


FOR 

SCHOOL   AND   SOCIAL    ENTER- 
TAINMENT 
By  Mrs.  J.  W.  Shoemaker 
Entirely  New  and  Original 
Paper  Binding.  30  Cents 
Cloth,  50  Cents 

The  topics  have  been  arranged  on  a 
comprehensive  plan,  with  reference  to  securing  the 
greatest  possible  variety;  and  the  matter  has  been  pre- 
pared  especially  by  a  corps  of  able  writers.  Each  pro- 
duction has  been  critically  examined  as  to  its  moral  tone, 
its  literary  structure  and  expression,  and  its  adaptation 
to  the  purpose  intended. 

Loftiness  of  conception,  purity  of  tone,  elevated  moral 
sentiment,  and  perfect  adaptability  are  some  of  the  many 
good  points  to  be  found  in  this  volume,  which  shows  on 
every  page  indisputable  evidence  of  thorough  and  care- 
ful preparation. 

This  is  probably  the  best  all-round  dialogue  book 
ever  published,  being  adapted  as  it  is  to  the  Sunday- 
school  or  day-school,  to  public  and  private  entertain- 
ments, and  to  young  people  or  adults.  It  gained 
popular  favor  as  soon  as  issued,  and  the  demand  ever 
since  has  been  very  great.  Any  person  in  need  of  a 
book  of  this  kind  will  be  sure  to  be  satisfied  with  this 
volume. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
of  price. 

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Humorous  Dialogues 

and  Dramas 

By  Charles  C.  Shoemaker 

Paper  Binding,  30  Cents 

Clotli,  50  Cents 

After  the  severe  labors  of  the  day 
every  one  enjoys  that  which  will  af- 
ford relaxation  and  relieve  the  mind 
of  its  nervous  tension.  For  this  rea- 
son the  humorous  reading  is  so 
heartily  received  and  the  humorous  dialogue  so  vigor- 
ously applauded.  Humor  has  its  legitimate  field,  but  it 
.s  always  attended  with  one  great  danger,  that  of  de- 
scending to  the  coarse  and  vulgar.  And  just  at  this  point 
lies  the  merit  of  this  book.  The  dialogues  are  humorous 
without  being  coarse,  and  funny  without  being  vulgar. 
Many  of  them  are  selected  from  standard  authors,  but  a 
number  of  others  have  been  specially  prepared  for  the 
book  by  experienced  writers. 

All  the  dialogues  are  bright  and  taking  and  sure  to 
prove  most  successful  in  their  presentation.  They 
can  be  given  on  any  ordinary  stage  or  platform,  and 
require  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary  in  the  way  of 
costuming.  They  are  adapted  to  old  and  young  of 
both  sexes,  and  are  suitable  to  all  occasions  where 
good,  wholesome  humor  is  appropriate  and  will  be 
appreciated. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
of  price. 

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Holiday  Selections 

1  OR  READINGS  AND  RECITA. 
TIONS 
By  Sara  Sigolrney  Rice 
Paper  Binding,  30  Cents 
Cloth,  50  Cents 
The   selections  in  this  volume  are 
adapted  to  all  the  different  holidays  of 
the  year,  and  are   classified  and  ar- 
ranged   in    the    book    according    to 
those  days  and  occasions.     Fully  half  of  the  pieces  are 
for  Christmas,  but  ample  provision  is  also  made  for  Nevr 
Year's,    St.   Valentine's    Day,   Washington's    Birthday, 
Saster,  Arbor  Day,  Decoration  Day,  Fourth  of  July,  and 
Thanksgiving.     The  selections  in  all  cases  are  strictly 
appropriate   to   the   occasions   for  wliich  they  are  de- 
signed. 

The  volume  has  been  prepared  by  one  of  the  most 
prominent  elocutionists  of  the  country,  who  has  tested 
the  value  and  effect  of  its  contents,  and  thus  proved  that 
the  pieces  are  in  touch  with  popular  sympathy.  Much 
of  the  material  is  from  the  pens  of  our  most  recent  and 
taking  American  writers,  while  the  remainder  is  from  the 
classic  and  ripened  experience  of  English  authors.  It 
is  a  volume  that  cannot  fail  to  meet  most  acceptably  a 
widespread  demand,  and  the  varied  character  of  its 
contents  makes  it  as  serviceai^le  in  midsummer  as  in 
midwinter. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
of  price. 

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Holiday  Entertainments 

New  and  Original 
Paper  Binding,  30  Cents 
Cloth,  50  Cents 
There  are  few  things  more  popular 
during  the  Holiday  Season  than  En- 
tertainments   and     Exhibitions,    and 
there  is  scarcely  anything  more  diffi- 
cult to  procure  than  new  and  merito- 
rious   material    appropriate    for  such 
occasions.     The  cause  of  the  scarcity  is  the  difficulty  in 
!he  preparation  of  suitable  material. 

This  book  is  made  up  of  short  Dramas,  Dialogues, 
Tc^bleaux,  Stories,  Recitations,  etc.,  in  all  of  which  are 
introduced  many  new  and  novel  features  that  give  the 
spice  and  sparkle  so  desirable  for  such  occasions.  Each 
exercise  has  been  specially  prepared  for  this  book,  and 
nearly  every  one  has  been  written  by  a  different  author. 
Long  experience  has  familiarized  the  publishers  with 
the  public  need  and  taste.  Acquaintance  with  authors 
has  directed  them  where  to  go  for  material,  and  the 
interest  of  their  patrons  has  barred  out  every  unsu'table 
article. 

While  particularly  designed  for  the  Christmas  Holi- 
days, it  is  adapted  to  the  full  round  of  holidays,  contain- 
ing features  especially  adapted  to  New  Year's.  Washing- 
ton's Birthday,  Easter,  Decoration  Day.  Fourth  of  July, 
and  Thanksgiving. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
of  price. 

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Tableaux,  Charades, 

and  Pantomimes 

Paper  Binding,  30  Cents 
Cloth,  50  Cents 

The  features  contained  in  this  attrac- 
tive volume  are  adapted  alike  to  Parlor 
Entertainments,  School  and  Church 
Exhibitions,  or  for  use  on  the  Amateur 
Stage. 

The  department  of  Tableaux  is  un- 
usually replete.  The  best  judgment 
has  prevailed  in  the  selection  and  arrangement  of  the 
scenes,  and  the  descriptions  given  are  so  graphic  as  to 
render  them  perfectly  clear  to  the  most  inexperienced. 
Care  has  been  exercised  also  in  inserting  only  such 
scenes  as  can  be  produced  with  the  smallest  number  of 
auxiliaries,  so  that  all  can  be  effectively  produced  with- 
out any  difficulty. 

Tableaux,  with  readings  from  standard  authors, 
form  a  very  attractive  feature,  as  do  also  the  statuary 
scenes. 

The  Charades  and  Pantomimes  are  not  so  numerous, 
but  in  point  of  attractiveness  they  are  fully  equal  to  the 
other  section  of  the  book.  Everything  contained  in  the 
book  is  bright  and  fresh,  and  much  of  the  material  was 
specially  prepared  for  it  by  experienced  writers  familiar 
with  the  wants  of  the  public. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent,  prepaid,  upon  receipt 
of  price. 

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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  helow 


cIl. 


JUN  22  1945 
D&C  2  7  1951 


Form  L-9-15m-7,'35 


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